


Capped Pawn

by csaber



Series: The Long Shot [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 71,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csaber/pseuds/csaber
Summary: “Shepard is lying to you. Find him quickly.” An anonymous message snares the Normandy’s crew in a web of secrets and plots–with their missing commander at the center.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of my 2010-2011 fic “Chessboard” is pretty special to me, for several reasons. Conspiracy! Mystery! Action and adventure with gay on the side! Now it’s back, rewritten, and renamed, and I’m mega-excited to share it.

**PART I: CATO**

_"Shepard is lying to you. Find him quickly."_

The message came with nothing but a small beep—at least, it must have, because when Joker saw it at the top of his inbox, "two minutes ago" ran along the opposite corner from "unknown sender." Joker's finger drifted to the delete key, hovered over it. _Shepard is lying to you. Find him quickly._

As the skycar shuttle emerged from a tunnel, black gave to the whites and greens of the Presidium. _Creepy anonymous message is creepy,_ he thought. It was a damn perfect coincidence for a harmless trick. A harmful one was another story.

He forwarded the message and opened a com-link. "Hey EDI, can you take a look at this? See who it's from?"

The AI's voice came over his earpiece. "Very well."

Lying meant there was something to lie about. Liara had contacted him, Shepard said hours ago, armed and armored. She disappeared from Illium before the attack on the Collector base, but now she needed his help with a lead on the Shadow Broker. The Broker's network once infiltrated Cerberus through Wilson, so it was safer for Shepard to stay off the _Normandy's_ radar.

Shepard _could_ have lied about that, but lying to Joker, to the crew, meant that the truth wasn't pleasant. But only space dust remained of the Collectors and their base, and work crews had painted over the _Normandy's_ Cerberus decals. The Reapers' apocalypse drifted ever closer, but right now independence and relationship fuzzies made "pleasant" a great description of Joker's life. Shepard's too, he hoped.

_I'm probably just making a big deal of this._

The view outside shifted when the skycar dipped out of traffic. It slowed to a halt, then descended on a landing pad and opened. Joker climbed out, eyeing the squeaky-clean enclave marked with the Alliance's symbol. As if he didn't have enough to deal with.

A light-armored guard halted him at the entrance, now blockaded with queues and kiosks. "Stand there for a moment, sir." She raised her omni-tool. "Just have to scan you. Security measures and all."

"Since when did they have this?"

The officer quirked an eyebrow at him. "It's been this way for a while. You don't come here often, do you?"

"Second visit, and honestly? Twice too many."

She tossed a cautious glance over her shoulder. "I hear you." She tapped the display, eyes scanning the new window that appeared. "Former Alliance Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau. Here by Councilor Anderson's request."

"The one and only."

"I'm picking up one open com-link on you. To where?"

"My ship?"

That earned him a blank stare.

Suppressing a sigh, he straightened himself and summoned his official business voice. "The frigate _Normandy_ SR-2, currently docked at the Emerali Spaceport in Zakera Ward."

More tapping, more scanning. "A ship we've marked as affiliated with Cerberus."

" _Formerly_ affiliated with Cerberus. Look, Anderson's waiting for me, do we really need to fuss over a com-link?"

"Sorry, sir, just my job. Lot of new faces in the embassy these days." She dismissed her omni-tool, stepped aside, and gestured him into the bustle of well-dressed diplomatic types.

Very fast-paced bustle, he found soon enough, centered on an unmoving core that was the line at the front desk. "… how many people vanished on Freedom's Progress?" a man who didn't fit his suit asked the receptionist. The ten people behind him tapped their feet or rolled their eyes.

Didn't the colonies in the Terminus pride themselves on their independence? Joker moved on, following the signs on the embassy's walls to a flight of steps and a hallway.

Two suits passed by him. "… this Terminus Systems business is any concern of ours." "The Hegemony…" The further he walked, the trend continued: batarians, Blue Suns, Eclipse, Blood Pack. Even Aria T'Loak. He glanced over his shoulder. The poor colonist didn't have a chance.

"You got anything yet?" he asked EDI. "Security got all uptight about this channel—'oh no Cerberus'—and I don't wanna get thrown out or interrogated."

"Councilor Anderson _did_ want answers to his questions."

And Joker was to provide them. Shepard had bribed him with a fancy sushi date. "Okay, yeah, but that'll probably involve awkward silences in the fake sunlight. I'll take that over being strapped to a rack in a dark room."

"I would remind you of humans' varying preferences regarding straps, racks, and dark rooms…"

_Thanks, EDI._

"… but I have finished an initial analysis of the anonymous message. It's heavily encrypted."

That killed the "harmless prank" idea. _Figures._ "You can break through it, right?"

"It would take time, but I'll get started."

 _Shepard is lying to you,_ but between a faceless message and their fearless leader, the latter's words won out. Joker entered an elevator, then punched in the top floor. _A few answers for Anderson, and one for me. Nothing to worry about._

 

Kasumi Goto followed from the rooftops, keeping the black-armored figure distant but visible.

It wasn't that she mistrusted him. Weird behavior bore the best insights into a personality, and years of observing marks, pursuers, and everyone in-between had given her a sharp eye for it. Destroying the Collector base should've set Shepard at ease, and for the first few days after the victorious return, it did.

The change happened overnight. Everywhere he went, he examined the ship, the crew, the squad, appraising them with hundreds of gears turning in his head. He was subtle about it, too. Even Joker, who seemed to share the man's bed every now and then, didn't notice.

The roof ended over one of Tayseri Ward's innumerable narrow alleys. She took two steps back, darted forward, and leaped across. Her landing was perfect and soundless. Shepard turned a corner. She went for diagonals.

Kasumi didn't get far in her profession by ignoring the easily dismissed. So of course she slipped off the ship and into her cloak and visor, and followed from a distance when Shepard's weirdness culminated in a sudden departure. Something about one of his old crewmates, he said, but was that true?

With each building Kasumi crossed in the dark violet cityscape, the flow of sentient traffic thinned from a tiny stream to a trickle, from a trickle to nothing. Two years ago, Tayseri's Talsin District offered plentiful storage space to companies big and small. The Battle of the Citadel turned it into a refugee hub. The companies left, then C-Sec and better fortunes cleared out the refugees. Talsin remained a shadow of its former self, sparse and silent.

Kasumi let a grateful smile touch her lips. The Cerberus job took her from pitched battles in merc bases to suicidal sprints through the galactic core. All very open, all very loud, with the Hock heist the only thing resembling a reprieve. _This_ was her element, the rooftops of a galactic metropolis, chasing a shadow with her wits and skills.

That shadow, still a small fleck in her sights, winked out of sight. _Took him long enough to cloak._ But the trail hadn't gone cold yet. Invisible or not, Shepard had to follow the streets and alleys. When he reached his destination, he had to go through a door.

 _He could be telling the truth._ Where the Shadow Broker was concerned, cloak-and-dagger tactics were more than necessary. _But if he isn't…_ It was better to find out than stay ignorant.

A man in a hardsuit appearing out of nowhere would've caused a fuss in the busier parts of town. On emptier streets, camera memory was easier to deal with than people memory—both for him and for her. She opened her omni-tool, visible to her through her visor. A push of a button sent her spy programs into the wide network of Talsin's unused security systems.

 

"A human Reaper?" Councilor Anderson stared at the computer screen the same way he watched the unfolding of Eden Prime, though some of that intensity had long left him. The light streaming in through his mostly glass office made that clear enough.

"Well, a human baby Reaper," Joker said. "Mordin had a theory that it was supposed to be the core of something like Sovereign."

"So the Reapers aren't just machines. They're… hybrids. Like Saren was, in the end, but on a larger scale."

"Seems like it. And they reproduce with DNA goo."

"But why did they only capture humans? What about other species?"

"Harbinger didn't seem to like 'em. It got real vocal about their 'deficiencies' whenever it possessed a Collector."

Anderson frowned. "I see. Continue."

"Not much else to say. Shepard and company blew up the baby Reaper, then they blew up the Collector base. The Illusive Man wanted to keep the base intact so he could study it. Shepard refused and quit."

With a reassured "hmm," Anderson nodded, setting the datapad atop a tall stack of them on his desk. "Good choices."

"So. Will the Council listen to us now?"

"On the Reapers, I'm not sure. Since only human colonies were targeted, they might just wave the Collectors off as a human problem, like they did with Saren. On Shepard… I still have a few concerns." He opened a new window with diagrams and stills.

They were orange-tinted from Joker's side of the desk, but the shape of the skeleton was clear, with Cerberus's synthetic add-ons marked in green. Layer by layer, nerves and organs and muscles faded in, then out. At the bottom of the window was the picture from the operating room.

Joker wanted to look away. But Anderson would've picked up on that, even if he wouldn't question it. So he turned his gaze back, focusing on the good Councilor, not on the reminder between them.

"He's been enhanced with all kinds of implants," Anderson said. "You weren't able to get their specs?"

"There were lines." When he asked, Miranda got that look in her eyes that said "no" and felt like a slap to the face.

"And…" Anderson narrowed his eyes. "They did all this, and restored his personality?"

"Yes, sir."

"He remembers everything? He hasn't done anything he wouldn't have before the attack? "

"Yes to the first question, sir, but I can't really answer the second. Death is… kind of a big deal. People aren't supposed to come back from that."

Shepard himself grappled with that question, so much that he cracked: back turned, staring out at nothing, muttering a too-real description of his own death. _"You're still the Shepard I remember,"_ Joker said, or some variation of it, not sounding very convincing.

With that Anderson shifted, as if realizing something, then leaned back into his chair. "You're right. I'm sorry," he said with a sigh. "I don't want to sound like my colleagues, but I want to be sure. Shepard seemed fine when we spoke, but that doesn't cover a lot of time. We thought Cerberus was a small splinter group. It's just hard to believe they're capable of a damn miracle."

"Cerberus has done a whole hell of a lot in the last two years."

"Mm. Which leads me to my next questions. But first, and this is the last you'll hear about this, do _you_ believe Cerberus brought back the real Shepard?"

"Yes, sir."

There was no hesitation there. Shepard sealed up the crack, picked himself up, and carried on. The Collector base was left in pieces in his wake. The Illusive Man was left to cry in a corner after Shepard took his ship and a bunch of his best people.

Anderson matched the certainty in Joker's answer with a single nod, closing the Lazarus window. "Then that's enough of that. Cerberus. Alliance Intel says they've been busy. If what you said about the original _Normandy_ is true, then they must have fingers in more pots than we thought. And…" He slid a datapad out from the middle of the stack. "while all this is going on, there's unrest in the Terminus Systems."

His pause was long enough for Joker to raise an eyebrow. "I don't know anything about that, sir."

"You do know that the major merc companies in the Terminus Systems have ties to the Batarian Hegemony?"

"Everyone knows that."

"But somehow, those ties are weakening. We have reports of sabotage, failed negotiations between mercenary commanders and batarian diplomats. With humanity's history with the batarians, attacking that alliance sounds like something Cerberus would do."

"Shepard and Garrus took out most of the mercs on Omega, but that was more a Garrus thing than a Cerberus thing." Joker paused at a realization. "Wait, so you _don't_ know Cerberus is involved, you're just guessing."

"I was hoping you'd be able to give me the missing link. The situation's complicated. If the Terminus and the Hegemony are headed for war, we'll want to reinforce our territories. But if we do that too soon or too openly, it might provoke our enemies into attacking us. Nobody wants another incident like Terra Nova." Anderson sat up. "But I think I've asked enough of you. When you see Shepard, give him my best. He's been through more than any of us realized."

"Will do, sir."

Joker stepped out of the office and started down the hallway to the elevator. Glass panels made up the walls and the ceiling, same as Anderson's office, creating two sprawling panoramas of the daytime Presidium. On the left, the open-air section of the human embassy looked more like a crowded playpen. Despite the elevation, despite the distance, Anderson was still in the middle of the mess. _No rest for the Councilor._

"Jeff," EDI said. "The trace may take longer than expected."

"Why's that?" he asked, entering the elevator, then hitting the ground floor button.

"The encyption seems to be modified from the method employed by Alliance Intelligence. It's considerable."

"Modified Alliance… Cerberus?"

"That's unlikely. This encryption doesn't match any Cerberus protocols in my databases, and the modifications are too extensive to have been made in the time since our break-up with Cerberus."

 _Break-up._ The note of amusement was welcome. If it wasn't Cerberus, maybe Anderson knew something. He reached for the elevator's stop button. _Probably not, though._ Anderson had questions, not answers.

"All right, EDI. Keep me posted." _Could still be a prank._ But that hope faded with every moment.

 

It took two days, but the reliable unreliability of cameras rang true again. Kasumi slipped into a warehouse through a side entrance, the cameras outside fed looped footage—and not by her. Still cloaked, she disabled the programs that masked her entry, then waited beside the door for a minute. Nothing came. To whatever security guards or mechs prowled around, the transition from looped footage to live was seamless. Or "should've been" seamless. Wherever Shep got involved, things got complicated.

Further inside, a handful of lights on the high ceiling cast faint white on the main storage area. A LOKI mech patrolled down a row of shipping crates, taps and whirrs accompanying each step. As it passed, Kasumi climbed atop a crate stack. The mech had friends, all strolling along programmed paths, but more interesting was the office in the far corner and the lone human inside.

She descended from her vantage point and navigated the rows. The mechs had no way of detecting her, but again, _Shepard_.

Turning the last corner brought a man's plain face into clear view—nobody she recognized. The Tri-Ward Securities logo ran across the breastplate of his black hardsuit. He swiped through various windows on the office computer while his eyes flicked between his work and the warehouse proper. One line of text was large enough for Kasumi to read: "Deleted."

The guard closed all the windows, stood up from his desk. If she went for him now, all the mechs would rush—as much as LOKIs could rush—to his defense. Then the guard turned around and ducked beneath the window.

There was a thud, like a door slamming.

Kasumi darted into the office. She opened her omni-tool, broke the trap door lock, and swung it open. Then she dropped down into the pitch-black.

Her visor's night-vision kicked in as she landed. A tight corridor stretched out before her. The dull pangs of running footsteps echoed. Kasumi broke into a jog, then a full run.

The corridor went on for minutes. The guard was nowhere in sight. _Faster than I thought. Even with all that armor._ Gene mods, she realized.

Light bled into the tunnel. Kasumi picked up her pace. She emerged at a landing pad, a wide hexagon with a small, boxy shuttle at the center. _His getaway vehicle._ But where was he? She tiptoed around the shuttle. The landing pad was a tucked-away, open-air alcove, with no doorways other than the one. She stopped at the door. The vehicle held still and kept silent.

 _What if he's doing what I'm doing?_ As if answering her, the air between her and the shuttle flickered with faint distortion. The guard appeared in a downward ripple of light. He put a hand to the door.

She reached out with her omni-tool and threw out a hack.

The guard froze in place. "What the?"

He struggled against the hijacked locks. Seconds later, however, he threw his arms out with a grunt. His suit's normal code had reasserted itself. "Who's there?" he asked, whirling around and pulling a pistol out.

 _Not-so-stock security on his armor._ Kasumi crept up to the shuttle and climbed on top of it. She inched towards the guard, his back to her, while she picked a tracer off her belt.

She pounced and grabbed on. She smashed her omni-tool into the back of his helmet. He howled. Kasumi held onto him long enough to put the tracer on him. Then she planted her feet on his back and kicked out. The guard fell to the ground while she flipped back onto the shuttle.

"Who…" He staggered to his feet and aimed at her. "Are you?"

"Just someone with questions. You aren't a run-of-the-mill guard."

"What are you talking about? I'm with Tri-Ward."

"I'm familiar with the company. Tactical cloaks? Not in their budget."

The guard lowered his gun. Then he raised his omni-tool. A fiery sphere flew towards her. She rolled off the shuttle as the small explosion scorched its hull.

"So," Kasumi said, crouching, "why don't you tell me who you really are? And while you're at it, tell me where a friend of mine went."

"A friend…" The guard narrowed his eyes. A hint of a smile flashed across his face.

 _He knows._ If she brought him to the _Normandy_ , maybe Miranda or Garrus could get his mouth open.

"I don't know what you're on about," the guard said, pressing a button on his omni-tool.

Instinct jerked her into a sideways roll. The shuttle's thrusters flared, roasting the air she occupied a split-second ago. She got to her feet and ran at the guard. He dashed for the shuttle door. In her peripheral vision, a panel on the hull slid open. A turret emerged.

 _Can't get to him._ Kasumi picked up her pace, opting for an arc around the shuttle. Rapid fire rattled after her. The guard opened the door and stepped inside.

She escaped the firing angle as the shuttle took off. In a few seconds it was a small blip joining the skycar traffic overhead.

Kasumi retreated into her cloak. _That could've gone better._ At least the guard gave her a few answers, though unintentionally. On her omni-tool, a red dot blinked on her map of Tayseri Ward, crawling further away from her position. She'd get another chance to nab him. _Now or later? Alone or with company?_

Well, she'd planned on bringing the others up to speed anyways. And before they went after the not-run-of-the-mill, not Tri-Ward guard, she could search one other place. Kasumi returned to the tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it begins! Unlike "Chessboard," we start off quite quickly, and (maybe unfortunately) without the ship fluff. Just imagine that Shepard and Joker had plenty of snuggle time in the week or two between the end of "Blindside" and now.
> 
> Cato: "It is my opinion that Carthage should be destroyed." Or something like that. What does that have to do with Mass Effect, thousands of years after Carthage burned to the ground?


	2. Chapter 2

Her desk had never been messier.

The first day after mission accomplished, Miranda Lawson went through her files. She kept those she could use against Cerberus. She destroyed those Cerberus—or anyone—could use against her. Her computer was a lost cause, overrun with spy programs. It ended its service as fabricator material. When the purge was done a week later, her records were clean but sparse. Her omni-tool came next.

On one window of her new computer, Jacob's image chuckled. "The work never ends?" He'd taken her call with a gray-blue wall as his background.

"No, I suppose not." A project was a project, and a better use of time than doing nothing.

She skipped over a Cerberus-loyal contact and added an unwitting employee to her new list. An article's abstract was on another window: new research suggested that most relays predated the Protheans that supposedly created them. Reactions from the scientific community and the media were mixed, as expected, but with enough traction, the galaxy could move another inch towards the truth. The realization was another inch of a mile, however. The Reapers weren't patient enough to let civilization travel that distance.

"How are things on your end?" she asked.

"Hopeful. They don't need to be isolated anymore, no frenzies, but they're still not their old selves. The doctors think recovery could take years. One for every two they spent on that planet."

"I doubt they'll ever be the same after what they went through." Even if the _Gernsback_ survivors recovered, they'd have to live with the memories of slavery and savagery.

"No, but all the more reason I should help them." Jacob had interesting ideas on atonement.

"So you spend all your free time at the facility?"

"Pretty much."

She frowned. "I imagine it has guards."

"Yeah, but other than a rowdy patient acting up, nothing really happens here."

 _He doesn't get it._ "Then a skilled enough intruder can get inside."

"Why would anyone… oh. I can take care of myself, you know that."

"If anyone else was after you, I wouldn't be worried. But you know what the Illusive Man can do."

Or rather, what his left hand could do. Kai Leng knew where to look for weakness and how to exploit it. The debacle on Aite proved as much. When the hybrid VI seized control of Shepard's implants, Leng used that link to get him out of the way. Miranda dealt with Leng only because she had surprise on her side.

If the Illusive Man marked the rest of the squad, she couldn't say. Zaeed found new work in the Terminus Systems, Legion returned to their kind, Thane and Samara traveled to Kahje, and Mordin covered all his tracks when he left. Jacob's cause was noble, needlessly so, but he was at the most risk. And all the people he surrounded himself with would be little more than useless bodies in a sneak attack.

"All right, I get it," Jacob said. "I'm not leaving these people, but I'll keep what you're saying in mind."

"I have spy programs in Cerberus's systems. I'll try to keep you informed."

"Appreciate it. Taylor out."

That military-tinged ending note brought a tiny smile to her face. Perhaps she worried too much, like Oriana wrote in her messages.

As Jacob's window closed, a new call opened to replace it. "Hey, Miranda," Kasumi said. "Might want to round up the inner circle into the conference room. I've got something you'll want to see."

 

"This guy was using a cloak?" Garrus Vakarian asked.

Kasumi's image, hovering over the conference table, frowned. "And a deceptively fancy hardsuit. A bit much for a regular grunt, no?"

Stealth cloaks were works of art, too intricate to replicate with a fabricator. Garrus did the research, balking at their cost.

The conference room had been wrecked at the galactic core, then gutted and reassembled at a maintenance dock. The floor beneath the table was locked in place—no more calls from the Illusive Man. Next to Garrus, Grunt ran his claws along a deep bore in the still-scratched wood. Miranda stood on Garrus's other side. Across the table were Joker, Chakwas, and Tali. Jack lurked by the door, half-interested.

"So Shepard disappears," Miranda said, "and you found a guard using a good deal of his tech."

Grunt chortled. "Cowards use stealth to hide and run away. Shepard uses them to kill his enemies. This guard's nothing."

"Nothing but our one lead."

"Is there even a lead?" Tali asked. "We don't know why Shepard approached this person. Maybe he's an agent for the Shadow Broker. Shepard could be lying to _him_ , using him for Liara."

At "lying," Joker looked at the floor.

"Do you know something?" Garrus asked him.

Joker pressed his lips together. "Maybe. I got a message while I was out two days ago." _"Shepard is lying to you. Find him quickly,"_ he explained, its sender cloaked in heavy-duty, Alliance-esque encryption. "Could be a trick."

Tali nodded. "When it comes to the Shadow Broker, trust nothing. I know that from experience."

"Speculating is useless," Miranda said, looking at Kasumi. "Did you get any facts out of him?"

"He got away. But I planted a tracking device on him."

"You did tell me you found something."

"I went to the office and dug around. This was hidden in his desk, but I don't think he's the one who left it there." She pressed something on her omni-tool. A window appeared over the table, with the contents of a datapad: a text input field and several lines of characters.

"Hexadecimal strings," Kasumi said. "Here's the translation."

 _Agebinium, Binthu, Casbin, Edolus…_ The list went on. Garrus glanced at the other side of the table.

Joker leaned forward. "Those are planets we went to on the SR-1."

"And we sent a ground team to these ones in particular," Chakwas said. "A password hint, perhaps?"

"Meant for the old crew," Tali said.

 _Or the old squad._ If the password had to do with their ground missions, then it was something they all had in common. But the list had most of the worlds they visited. It couldn't be objective-related. _Something with the squad? What did we all have on those missions?_

"I might have an idea. Let me try entering something," Garrus said.

A haptic keyboard appeared at his fingertips. He typed in a long string of letters, numbers, and symbols—the access code to the old communications channel. "Try that."

Kasumi hit the "enter" button. The field and the list faded out. "Nice."

"What's inside?" Miranda asked.

"Just a video file. I'll play it."

A dark image appeared in the password window's place. Four figures stood in dim light, snapping into motion with a pop of white noise. It was hardsuit footage. Garrus recognized the recording quality and the trembling camera work.

"That's the warehouse I'm in right now," Kasumi said.

 _"You're sure you weren't followed?"_ a black-armored woman asked an unseen figure. The camera jerked. There was a flicker of white and red.

_"I made sure."_

At that voice, Miranda narrowed her eyes, Chakwas stroked her chin, and Grunt grumbled. Tali froze and Joker stared at the video. Even Jack came to the table.

_"And your crew?"_

_"I gave them orders and a story."_

_"That'll be enough?"_

The white and red was indeed a bordered stripe on a right arm. _"They don't have any reason to doubt me."_

 _"I guess that's all we can hope for."_ The woman walked away, through a doorway. She kicked aside a case on the floor and opened a trap door. _"Follow me."_

The striped figure complied, and the recording stopped. N7, said its chest plate.

Silence, thick and oppressive, filled the void the white noise left behind. Everyone else had their eyes elsewhere, collecting their thoughts. _What about mine?_ He remembered the aftermath of Sidonis's confession. _"I need better people than me on this ship,"_ Shepard said, staring at the new _Normandy._ Maybe his words held more meaning than Garrus first thought.

But Shepard led those "better people" through a suicide mission in the galactic core. Because of him, each and every one of those "better people" made it back in one piece. Didn't that, on top of everything else, make him the best of them?

Weren't leaders _supposed_ to be the best of them?

Garrus needed a few more moments to find his voice. "That… doesn't paint a good picture."

"To say the least," Miranda said.

"It still could be a ruse," Tali said, "but how likely is that?"

Joker shook his head. "EDI, can you see if that footage was messed with?"

"I don't detect any kind of doctoring."

Joker's shoulders slumped as he sighed. "Well. Shit."

"What now?" Jack asked. "We find him and drag his ass back here?"

Grunt threw her a nasty glare. "Shepard's still my battlemaster. You fight him, you fight me."

"That's enough," Garrus said. "Right now, we have two leads: the message and the fake guard. Kasumi, you said you were tracking him? Where is he now?" The dread in his gut died down. It was better to plan and act than wallow and wonder.

"Let me see… the signal's coming from a Blue Suns base."

 _Blue Suns?_  Shepard couldn't be with them. But if the message and the footage were true, then Garrus couldn't rule anything out right now.

"What about the message?" Miranda asked.

"Decryption is progressing," EDI said. "I estimate one hour remains."

"Enough time to pay the Suns a visit."

Grunt made a hungry noise. "I hope it's a violent visit. I haven't had a good fight for too long."

As those gathered poured out of the conference room, Garrus gave the recording's last frame—and the N7 symbol it held—one more look. Then he made for the armory. A battle had its appeal, but answers had more.

 

When Enik Veshan laid eyes on the space station, an inverted colossus of a tower with half an asteroid as its crown, he knew that the bribe was worth it. The elites of Khar'shan shot spires of light into the night sky. But on the other side of the galaxy, the crimson beacon amid space's blackness held more of his attention than any of the displays back home. "Galvek Tarus," it was called, because it was one of the few safe havens outside Hegemony space. Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

"I must warn you again," the elderly batarian on the call said. His deep, scratchy voice reminded Veshan to stand at attention. This was a Lord of the Hegemony. "Be cautious with this filth. They are desperate, and desperate scum will resort to… unacceptable negotiation methods."

Garbed in the red-and-gold robes of an aristocrat, Ambassador Meh'kena watched the asteroids fly by in his large chair, a place of honor in the _Reach's_ cockpit. He rubbed one of his thumbs on the face of an antique silver coin. King Verush, Veshan knew. All old money had the ancient monarch on it, because the Hegemony tolerated no other.

"Your concern honors me, my lord," Meh'kena said. "I will exercise the utmost caution."

Lord Zora tilted his head left. Left tilts were meant for superiors or respected equals. To offer one to a subordinate was a gift, to put it mildly. "I'm pleased to hear that. I'm confident you'll bring back the contract State Arms needs. For the High Sovereign."

"For the High Sovereign."

The call ended, and the ambassador relaxed. He flicked a casual glance at Veshan. "It seems the Lord of Defense has taken a personal interest in my mission. Do you believe that's an honor or a burden?"

 _Both._ "An honor, sir. Only Sovereign Lerai could reward you more when you're done here." _And only he could punish us more if this fails. Though a Lord's wrath isn't anything to laugh at._ Especially Zora's chief rival, Lord Ah'lari. Everyone in Meh'kena's retinue knew that Zora had taken him and many others from the Spire of Diplomacy.

Good relations were a sort of Defense, Veshan supposed.

"Mm. Well said."

"Docking Control," the yacht's helmsman said. "This is the Hegemony diplomatic vessel _Ujon's Reach._ Requesting clearance to dock at Xierim 4-7. Transmitting cargo and passenger records."

A female voice responded half a minute later. " _Ujon's Reach_ , your identity has been confirmed and your arrival logged. You're cleared to dock. Send Ambassador Meh'kena regards from Captain Emil Valdez."

"Understood." With that the _Reach_ accelerated into the heart of the Terminus Systems.

"A hopeful sign," Meh'kena said. "The mercenaries remain at least civil in their greetings. You may wish to prepare your men, Guard-Captain."

Veshan dipped his head. "At once, sir."

They weren't _his_ , he reminded himself as he stepped out of the yacht's cockpit, but their original commander wasn't in any position to protest when Veshan offered Meh'kena a few years' worth of savings. He would've given more, anything to get off the dead end on Bira.

"Listen up," he said to the uniformed batarians gathered in the passenger hold. "Some of you have been to Galvek before. Some of you haven't. Doesn't matter. The ambassador's decided all of you need a reminder of his expectations. His, and the Lord of Defense's. He has his eye on this mission, too."

Some of the guards' eyes widened, just as he wanted.

"You are all _guards,_ so you are to _guard_ the ambassador and his retinue. Not to chit-chat with the mercenaries, and not to provoke them. That includes tilting. They know the difference between right and left. In the event things go sour for the ambassador, your priority is getting him safely to this ship. Your kill count will mean nothing if Ambassador Meh'kena gets a bruised elbow."

Veshan paused there. "Do I make myself clear?"

A small chorus of affirmatives responded, the necessary respects. _Good_. The address was as much for their safety as Meh'kena's.

The _Reach_ landed soon enough. Guards disembarked the ship and formed two lines on the hangar floor, facing inward. Meh'kena maintained a leisurely pace as he walked down the boarding ramp. Veshan stayed behind him, eyes scanning.

Four soldiers in yellow, black, and white waited at a distance. One was helmeted, the other an asari, but the other two had drab skin on their faces that came to a point on clumsy noses. Fur jutted out of various spots on their heads. Most importantly, they only had two eyes. Hegemony vids exaggerated human grotesqueness, but Veshan still had to hide the distaste that washed over him.

The humans' leader looked like clay given to a child sculptor, by far the uglier of the two. Something resembling a dead fuzzy insect rested above his mouth. He bowed his head. "Ambassador. Welcome to Omega."

Another name for this station, Veshan supposed.

"Captain Valdez," Meh'kena said. "You came to greet me personally. I'm touched."

"Just showing how much we value your aid."

"By that," the other human said, "he means State Arms's excellent products." Her red hair was tied together behind her head. She glanced at Veshan, then the rest of the guards.

Meh'kena chuckled. "We haven't been introduced."

"Lieutenant Bauer." She offered a fluid, deep bow.

"Now, where might we begin our talks?" Meh'kena asked Valdez. "I've come a long way from Khar'shan, and I'm eager to begin assessing our arrangement."

The arc of hair over one of Valdez's eyes rose. "You want to start now? We were gonna show you to your accommodations."

"There's no need for that. The _Ujon's Reach_ was pleasant enough."

"If you say so."

Valdez led the way. Meh'kena chattered with him the whole walk, with Veshan, his men, and the other Eclipse behind them.

Veshan had left out the "burden" half of his answer. Defending Meh'kena from his severed relations to Ah'lari was part of Veshan's job, he supposed, but hopefully Zora's thanks would outweigh Ah'lari's spite.

_Whatever happens, this is still a big step up from Bira._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sirs/Ma'am Not-Appearing-In-This-Story: One thing I realized about the old version of this fic, "Chessboard," was that there were way too many extraneous characters. So snip went half the squad, leaving Miranda, Garrus, Kasumi, Jack, Grunt, and Tali.
> 
> Batarians at Omega: This scene debuts a few important fan characters. Expect plenty of Hegemony world-building!


	3. Interlude

He fumbled every keystroke while a dozen people waited for him to break into the house.

He ran his program again. "Exception," said the console's output, and the lock remained red. Extranet sites taught only so much—even less about cracking locks. Worse, good money had gone into these ones. With sweat drenching the inside of the omni-tool glove, he made a few adjustments. He still had a few tricks left.

Someone shoved him by the shoulder. "Hurry up."

He wasn't as good at tech as he thought, but at least he knew how to whisper. "Fuck off."

"Let him work," a third voice said. That shut Ortiz up.

Another attempt met the same results. Pure luck kept the alarms silent. He lowered his arms, closing his eyes to the night. His last attempts had something in common that wasn't working. _Figure that out and get this going. Make the boss not regret getting me this glove._ Behind him Ortiz grumbled. A cold breeze brushed against his face.

He opened his eyes, changed a few lines of code, and ran the program. The lock turned green. He reached up, tapped it. The metal panel slid below the ground. Then he dared to breathe.

The owner of the third voice, tall and muscular, walked on in. "You all know the deal. Get started."

As their leader disappeared into the large house, the others flocked behind him. Victor entered last, then undid his work by locking the back door. A security console hung from a wall. He traced his finger over the buttons and hit the one that resembled "off."

He started down the hallway, making light steps on the hardwood floor. Framed family photos and holos hanged from freshly painted walls. This house, their leader said, was over a hundred years old, a piece of history with too much luck. Its current owner chose it as a point of defiance, a lone symbol of what used to be. Bombs and gunfire and missiles demolished the rest of its kind a long time ago.

Soon came the rustling and the knocking. At the end of the hallway was a living room and the front door, and two Reds dragging the house's owner down the stairs. He wrenched an arm free and elbowed one Red in the face. As Curt put a hand over his nose, Meira slugged the owner in the back of the head. The older man fell to his knees and hands. Curt, snarling, kicked his side. The two pulled him onto an expensive-looking rug in the center. More Reds emerged from other rooms, surrounding him. Victor retreated to the side. The show was about to start.

Their leader emerged from a dark corner. As he stepped in front of a window, the dim light painted faint blue crescents around his silhouette. "Hey, Councilman. Do you know who I am?"

The man on the floor didn't look at him. "One of the men who think they rule this borough."

"You're talking about yourself. I asked about me."

"I know what I said."

Their leader shrugged, then made a fist. His punch wasn't out of irritation or rage. It was casual, ceremonial. The councilman took it right in the face, but didn't flinch, not at the loud crack, not at the blood spray. A knee to his gut got only a grunt. A pistol whip earned even less.

His clothes were torn and stained, and his face was even worse off, but all he did was look up at their leader and stare. "I know what this is. I'm supposed to be the example."

The Old Man—not the one on the floor of his house, but _the_ Old Man, capital letters included, folded his arms across his chest. His breathing remained slow and relaxed, his fists steady.

"Smart guy," he said.

"I understand a few things. You don't. Brooklyn used to be something. Art. Music. Culture. All I want is to restore what it lost in the war."

The Old Man's shoulders rose and fell with his laugh. Even after three years in the Tenth Street Reds, it sent shivers down a spine. "You believe that, don't you?"

"I do."

"Then let me tell you something. The people who came before you had all the chances to fix this place up. They didn't. Why? They didn't care. But we did. We put in the work when they sat on their asses. Why shouldn't Brooklyn belong to us after that?"

All the Tenth Street Reds saw this happen before. He was setting a trap.

"What you built was founded on violence and greed."

The councilman had walked right into it. The Old Man grinned. "Violence and greed? Then let me show you kindness and generosity, Councilman David." He glanced up the stairs. "Bring the kids here."

Reds came down with two boys and a girl. None were older than ten. "Daddy," the younger boy said, fighting the arms that held him. The girl held still, staring at every Red in the living room one by one. The older boy's gaze was fixed on the Old Man.

David paled. "Let them go." He maintained that conviction in his voice, but fear crept into its edges.

"Not until you get this," the Old Man said, turning his pistol on a new target.

A gun loomed inches in front of the older boy's face, but he stayed calm where his dad couldn't. The picture was all wrong, Victor thought.

"This town isn't yours anymore," the Old Man said. "No, actually, it never was yours. Tell your friends on the city council it's a lost cause."

Something in the kid's hands caught the light coming in through the window. Victor looked at the others. Did nobody else notice? He shifted his head, and the kid held only shadow. No, they couldn't have, especially not with the Old Man holding the whole room captive. Victor should've said something, but nobody interrupted the Old Man when he was putting on a show.

"Well?" the Old Man asked.

David's gaze darted from the Old Man to his son, from his son to the Old Man. Back and forth, ever faster.

 The last bit of fight left his eyes. "I… understand. I'll kill the proposal next time the committee meets." Every word seemed painful to him. "Just please, let my children go."

"Smart guy. See? Kindness and generosity." But the Old Man's smile widened. "Still, I want the details of whatever goes on in that meeting. Until then, we're keeping them."

David looked up in alarm. "But the session's more than a week off."

The thing in the kid's hands flashed again. _Boss_ was on the tip of Victor's tongue.

"That's your prob—"

The kid threw himself at the Old Man.

Several Reds lunged. But the kid ducked and dashed, twisted and turned. A Red tried to tackle him and hit a wall. Others grabbed but found air. The front door burst open. Metal clattered on hardwood.

New light drifted into the living room. The Old Man stared outside. He clutched at his stomach, at a growing dark spot in his shirt. Even with a stab wound, his composure remained. A bemused smile crawled across his lips.

If the kid got away, he'd ruin everything, get everyone arrested. Victor rushed out.

The kid sprinted away on the sidewalk, too fast to chase. Victor pulled his pistol out of its holster. He aimed.

The first shot missed. The second sent the councilman's kid tumbling.

He hit the cracked cement and fell still. There was no screaming or squirming, just a lump on the edge of a street light's sickly yellow circle.

"What the…" someone said behind him.

 _Just a lump._ Victor turned around. "He… would've gotten away, told someone."

Finch looked past him. "The Old Man wanted him…"

A blare cut through the night, sharp despite its distance. Finch's eyes widened as other Reds scurried out of the house.

Finch ran. "Fuck."

Victor followed. No time, no room for questions—instinct screamed just to get the hell out. Three blocks down, Victor turned a corner. Two, and he hopped a fence. Ran to the ladder halfway down the alley. Up, _up, up._ A swing and a leap through a long-broken window, and Victor landed on bare, scratchy carpet.

The sirens came and went. Even as the silence joined Victor in the dark, he remained lying there, staring at the hint of the empty room's corner with musty carpet pressed into his face. _Just a lump._

After an eternity of that, then three hours of sleep, the shower squirted even less cold water than usual. Victor dressed, then climbed down from the abandoned apartment building onto the streets of Brooklyn with a cloudy sky above. His stolen jacket fit him perfectly, and it kept out the cold, but today the sleeves constricted his arms and wrists. The black cotton hood felt heavier around his head. And the chill in his chest remained. From his bones to his skin it gripped every inch, except one: the "10" tattoo, pulsing with a phantom itch.

 _"First time I killed someone,"_ the Old Man once told him, _"was a guy who didn't like what I had to say. Came at me with a knife, when I had a gun."_ Victor kept his pistol holstered and under his jacket, but part of him wanted nothing more than to run to the river and throw it in.

He entered the alley by the old shop and gave the signal. Cole nodded, stepping aside.

Through the side door, the sound of banging and screaming hit his ears. A Red hit the floor in a daze. Blood trickled from his cut forehead to the gray tile floor.

 _"Anyone else?"_ Nick Ortiz asked, his roar rattling the shop's back room. He cracked red-wet knuckles, his breaths heavy with exertion and rage.

Victor found Finch in the circle around Ortiz. "What's going on?"

"Cops got the Old Man."

_Oh._

Ortiz's seething glare leapt from Red to Red. Nobody else stepped into the middle with him.

A bloody grin spread across his face. "That's what I thought. The Old Man's gone. It's my turn. Starting today, we're carving out a bigger piece of the kingdom. We're gonna have more of this city than the Old Man ever _dreamed_."

Ortiz filled the next three years with brutal stabbings in the dark of alleys, with lightning-fast gunfights in old lots. Whenever police came, they found dead bodies, maybe a live one too slow to slip away. More often than not, the enemies of the Tenth Street Reds, not the Tenth Street Reds themselves, came up in both counts. Ortiz lived up to that promise he made in the back of the pawn shop. The shockwaves he made drew notice: a weapons deal, bigger than anything the Tenth Street Reds had ever seen before.

On a pier of the New Harbor, the dealer put Cole and Meira in handcuffs. "NYPD," he said. Victor, hidden away in the shadows of shipping containers, ran. To the Alliance recruitment office, to basic training, to the final test, to Elysium, to the Villa.

 

Finally, years later, his running brought him to the cruiser _Munich._

The message in Lieutenant Shepard's inbox was terse: _See me immediately._ As he stepped through the threshold, Rear Admiral Anna Whitwell picked up a datapad from her desk. She kept a spartan office, with bare walls all around and plain chairs on both sides of the desk. Every object in sight had a purpose. _"Decorations won't help me do my job,"_ she said once.

As her steely green eyes scanned the datapad, her thin lips pulled into a frown. "Lieutenant. We have a delicate situation on our hands, a potentially dangerous one. I need you to investigate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this was originally going to be the Prologue, but I decided that "Shepard is lying to you" made for a better kick-off to this story. The hunt for the fake guard continues next week!


	4. Chapter 4

"Let me guess," Captain Bailey said on the call. "You want to shoot the place up."

Some of the squad did. Garrus glanced down the conference room at Grunt and Jack. The rest, himself included, didn't mind. "A peaceful agreement would be nice, but you know our track record."

"Well, I wouldn't mind a few less Suns in my district. In all my years at C-Sec, they've only been a problem. Can I ask why you're after _this_ bunch?"

"Just following a lead on an investigation."

"Huh. Looking to go back into detective work, Vakarian?"

"No, but for this I'm making an exception."

Bailey shrugged. "Sounds important, but I won't pry. Good hunting."

Garrus ended the call. Shepard earned that goodwill from Bailey, bringing in Harkin and Thane's son, and now Garrus was using it to track Shepard. _Using it against him?_ No, not "against," not while so many details remained in the dark. _Whatever he's doing, he's still our commander._

"We're cleared to go, then," Miranda said. "EDI, do you have the base's floor plan?"

"Here it is."

A holographic map winked in above the table. The base boasted decent space for a moderate-sized force, plus turrets and barrier doors. The squad had dealt with far worse.

Miranda tapped two of the edges and a marking in the center. "One entrance, one shuttle bay, and a rooftop escape hatch. Grunt, Garrus, and I will take the front door. Tali and Jack, the bay. Take control of the defenses if you can. Kasumi, watch the roof. He could escape through there. If there are no questions, let's get moving."

Garrus spent the skycar ride on his omni-tool, sending queries to his old contacts. Each message included the Tri-Ward guard's face, or as good a shot as Kasumi's visor recording allowed.

"Heh," Grunt said, "what if that Vido guy shows up? I bet Zaeed's good eye will pop out when he finds out."

Garrus's omni-tool lit up with a reply, however, and the rambling faded into background noise. He scanned the message, then the attachment.

He opened the squad comm channel. "Listen to this. Apparently Kasumi's friend is in Tri-Ward's employee database. His name's 'Elias Grant.' But…" A new window displayed the results of the second scan. "The record's been tampered with. The signs are hardly there, but our guy's face wasn't the in original ID holo."

"So he's a spy," Miranda said.

"Blue Suns? Spying?" Kasumi asked. "Doesn't sound like their _modus_ _operandi_."

"Maybe they're adapting."

Jack laughed. "The Suns' heads are too thick for that."

They touched down in an industrial sector of Zakera Ward. The Blue Suns' boxy base sat in the shadow of a Hahne-Kedar factory, no doubt 'protecting' its products. Miranda took point. Her new hardsuit was as black and white as its predecessor, but sleeker and more flexible. For now, her holographic visor was off.

Two Suns stood guard at a door. At Miranda's approach, the one on the left sidestepped into her way. "This is—"

"Private property," Miranda said, "I know. But my colleagues and I would like to meet with one of your comrades. Do you know an Elias Grant? He likely arrived around an hour ago."

"Even if we did, why would we call someone out here to talk to you?"

"Is he busy? There doesn't seem to be much activity around here."

The Blue Sun sighed. "Who are you?"

"Someone with many questions and little patience." Almost atom by atom, Miranda inched her hand towards her belt. "Elias Grant, please, if that's the name he goes by here."

 

The hopeful beginning to Ambassador Meh'kena's visit didn't even last a day.

" _Our_ humiliations?" Captain Valdez asked, mere hours after their arrival. "I guess you'd know how it feels, unless you forgot about Torfan."

Meh'kena chuckled. "An entire Alliance force trampled over our brave, outnumbered defenders."

The two of them stared each other down from opposite ends of a long metal table. Lieutenant Bauer and half a dozen Eclipse stood behind Valdez, lined up against the high wall of the rusty red conference room. _Like victims of a firing squad,_ Veshan thought. _Or are they the firing squad?_ Each of the soldiers had pistols on their belts, but so did Veshan's men, positioned the same way for Meh'kena.

"What about the losses you suffered here?" Meh'kena asked, rolling his coin on the table. The silver caught the light whenever it passed the middle. "A lone vigilante and a handful of reinforcements were enough to wipe out your leadership and collapse your infrastructure, even with the aid of the Blood Pack and the Blue Suns. Perhaps Eclipse's failure to recover is rooted in another embarrassment. An older one."

"What?"

"Ignorance isn't a desirable trait, Captain. I'm talking about your outpost in Gemini Sigma."

"I wasn't part of that."

"But your company was. Wasn't that station supposed to be hidden? How, then, did you manage to lose it to a band of nameless vagabonds? Perhaps competence would've kept all those supplies in your hands. And perhaps then, you'd have the money we require."

Valdez sighed, rubbing the dead fuzzy insect on his lip. "You have to understand, Ambassador. Batarian State Arms is charging the normal prices, but after all we've had to deal with, we just don't have the money for that."

"I'm told you had some recent successes in the Skyllian Verge," Meh'kena said. "Successes with the necessary revenue, I imagine."

"We need to be profitable. We aren't funded by government subsidies."

"And State Arms needs to remain functioning. We are happy to provide you with the weapons you need, but their production—"

"You can afford to lose a bit of money while we get back to full strength."

"I cannot return to Khar'shan with vague promises of—"

"It's not a promise, it's happening."

Despite Valdez's interruptions, Meh'kena maintained his poise. "Have you recovered enough to pay the proper amount for our weaponry?"

"It…" Valdez groaned, putting his forehead to his palm. "Look. The only reason the Alliance fleets haven't landed on Khar'shan all these years is because they didn't want a two-front war. We can't protect your Hegemony if we aren't supplied."

Meh'kena smiled. _He has this idiot where he wants him._

"You speak of protection?" Meh'kena asked. "Shall we talk in circles, then, as I constantly remind you of what you failed to protect?"

"They—" Valdez's fist clenched on the tabletop. "Those weren't normal vigilantes who took on three companies. Lightning doesn't strike twice and that crap. Help us out now, and we'll take back the station we lost. The supplies will be yours."

"A gracious offer. But I need proof you can make it happen."

"Enough." Another voice spoke up.

Valdez swung his gaze over his shoulder. "Lieutenant, I didn't ask you to—"

"This is going nowhere," Bauer said. "The batarian ambassador is clearly too stupid to understand what's at stake here, so he's just focused on stealing from us." She looked at Meh'kena. "These negotiations are over."

Valdez stood. "What the hell are you doing?"

Alarms went off in Veshan's head. The soldier had spoken out of turn before, but this time was different. She acted like a superior, not a too-vocal subordinate. Something was very, very wrong here.

"Division in your ranks?" Meh'kena asked.

_Does he not see it?_

"Sir!" Veshan took his pistol off his belt and grabbed the ambassador by the wrist. He pulled him down from his chair just as a gunshot sounded.

Valdez's head exploded with blood and gore as it snapped back with the impact. His body sat back down.

Lieutenant Bauer's face had a perfect look of horror. "What… I see how it is." Her expression steeled. "Open fire."

Meh'kena's composure melted away. Pistols emerged. The gunfire came moments later, from both sides of the table. An Eclipse soldier rounded the corner, aiming at the ambassador. Veshan shot him in the head.

"We need to leave." Veshan fired a few blind shots over the table. "Guards, cover fire!"

His men did so, even as some of them fell. When they'd pressed the Eclipse to their side of the room, Veshan took the ambassador and ran to the exit. The Eclipse guard at the door lay dead. The batarian guard fared little better. Veshan motioned to Meh'kena. "Come, sir. We need to move."

An Eclipse came at them from across the hallway, spraying rifle fire. Veshan pushed Meh'kena behind him. His heavy shield absorbed the first slugs. Two of his own shots took the Eclipse down.

"I thought you had better control of your men, Guard-Captain," Meh'kena said.

Veshan led him back the way they entered. "The shot came from our side of the room, but not from our side." As they crossed the threshold, he threw his attention back at his men. "Pull back!"

They complied, covering their retreat with firepower. None of them made it out before the last door slammed shut and locked.

He hissed a curse. Getting them out would waste time. "We can figure out who shot who when you're safe, sir." He tapped into his channel to the _Ujon's Reach_. "This is Veshan. Status report."

"All clear here," the helmsman said. "What's happening?"

_Prepare for emergency departure_ was on the tip of his tongue. _They know we'd go straight there._ A trap was more than likely. "Emergency departure. Find another hangar, send the location to me and only me. The ambassador and I will meet you there. Then we leave."

 

A wave of heat rushed through the air as an YMIR's head exploded. The visit to the Blue Suns had, as expected, gone violent.

Grunt cackled, brandishing his missile launcher. "Who's next?"

The few Blue Suns remaining in Garrus's scope backed away from the mech's wreckage. Their commander, a barefaced turian with a visor, barked orders. His men darted into the cover of crates, spraying fire with no focus. Two squads of Suns remained, and this one was backed into an ever-shrinking corner of their own base.

From a high vantage on the second level, Garrus aimed and sniped one. Then Jack happened.

She dropped from mid-air, landing in the middle of them. Her blazing biotic aura burst out with a rattling thrum. Blue Suns flew limply in every direction. The commander hit the back wall, then the floor. He crawled away.

Tali's drone darted for the last pocket of mercenaries by the shuttle bay door. It dipped and dived through and between them, spraying sparks and jolts. Miranda signed and threw a biotic field. A few of them drifted into the air, easy pickings for Garrus's sniper rifle.

His last shot hit the last merc. The biotic lift faded, and the corpses hit the floor together. Silence settled over the ravaged base.

"Grunt, Jack, take the entrances, watch for reinforcements." Miranda stepped out of her cover and walked towards Jack's corner. "Tali, check the bodies for our man."

Garrus took the stairs down to follow her while Jack and Grunt walked off. She stopped beside the tallest stack of crates, then tossed another biotic field. Her target, he found when he got close, was the commander, bound in stasis on the floor.

She aimed her pistol at his head. "You really didn't know who we were. Or how many of your company's operations we've ruined. Now…" She glanced at Garrus.

He came forward with Elias Grant's picture over his omni-tool. "This person dropped by here. Where is he?"

The commander seethed. "I won't betray my men."

"So he _is_ one of yours," Miranda said. "Or is he?"

"I know what you're doing. Trying to sow distrust. I'm not falling for it."

"Does Tri-Ward Securities mean anything to you?" Garrus said. "Maybe a warehouse in Tayseri's Talsin District?"

The commander looked at him, then Miranda, confused.

"Huh," Garrus said. "So Grant's keeping secrets even from the Suns."

"Grant?" the commander asked. "That's Frelier. Lieutenant Caleb Frelier." He fell silent for a moment. "What's going on?"

"Looks like somebody's playing you."

"He isn't here. He said he ran into some trouble, and he took off after you started attacking us. Let me try contacting him."

Miranda stepped closer. "You realize the position you're in. Tricking your way out of it is a _very_ bad idea."

"I do anything, put a round between my eyes. On my turian honor."

Garrus scoffed at that as Miranda retracted some of the stasis field. The commander's arms burst into motion, then stilled. He tapped the side of his visor. "Lieutenant Frelier." He waited a second. "Frelier. Frelier!" His mandibles twitched with discomfort as he looked back at Miranda. "He cut the connection."

"Good thing we expected this," she said, pressing on her earpiece. "Kasumi, you're on."

 

Kasumi was already on the move. Well, the shuttle was.

She lay on all fours atop the scratched hull, the magnetic locks on her soles and palms holding steady. The Blue Suns base—and the whole sector containing it—was far behind her. A several-hundred-foot drop to the blur of _this_ sector waited below her, and several hundred more feet loomed above, with Zakera's traffic as little dotted lines.

If she waited for the shuttle to reach its destination, capturing the mark could get tricky if he picked a public area. Either she drew unwanted attention, or she enlisted C-Sec's help. Garrus gave her the sense that the good Captain Bailey preferred a hands-off approach in their business.

Initiative it was, before the shuttle merged into traffic. "EDI, can you stop this shuttle?"

"You're asking an AI to hijack an organic-piloted vehicle."

"Taking credit isn't my thing, but this time I'll make an exception. We don't have much time."

"Very well, Miss Goto."

The thrusters' roar died down to a hum. Inertia strained against the mag-locks, but EDI politely made a gentle stop. The door even popped upwards and open.

"You're the best," Kasumi said. She set the locks to half-strength, scuttled to the side, and took hold of the edge of the door. In a smooth arc she flipped up, swapped her grip, turned herself around, and dove into the shuttle hold. Her feet slammed into the Blue Sun's chest, her cloak falling off.

She landed on top of him. "Hello!"

Grant jabbed at her face. She shifted to the side, but he lurched the same way, throwing her off. She rolled into a crouch as he came at her—faster than expected. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled. Her feet dragged against metal as the vast drop inched closer. Kasumi opened her omni-tool and bashed his side.

He grunted, his grip faltering. Kasumi broke free and backed into the hold. Now the fake merc was between her and the open door, the easy out.

"Not too late to answer my questions," she said.

Grant glanced over his shoulder. He took a step back. _Easy out for me and him, if he's desperate._

He reached out and tapped a console on the wall. Whirring came from behind her as he charged her. Again she spun sideways. Before he went out the other door, she turned her spin into a kick to the stomach. Grant hit the deck, sprawled out on his back.

EDI closed the shuttle up. Kasumi kicked Grant onto his belly, then grabbed both his ankles.

He didn't resist. "Don't bother."

As he wiggled his jaw, Kasumi cursed beneath her breath. He stopped moving seconds later, his face slack.

"Not good," she said into comms, prying Grant's mouth open. One of his molars had a neat, round cavity. "Our guy killed himself."

 

Like a macabre dance, two lines of corpses lay on opposite sides of the room. One line solely batarian, the other line Eclipse, each body was bent in odd positions on the floor. Gunshot wounds perforated good armor. The one ceiling light shone over the center, over the Eclipse captain sitting limp at the conference table. The round went straight through his head, even through the headrest, piercing an inch into the metal floor.

The only living soldier on that level marked Valdez as a confirmed death, then moved on.

Like his armor, his helmet was painted yellow and white with two sun logos on each side, but Eclipse's trappings were nowhere on the UI. The audio indicator flashed. He wasn't supposed to have the codes to this channel.

"They're after you," someone who _was_ supposed to said. "One of my agents reported as much before going dark."

Up on the catwalks, a man in Eclipse armor paced back and forth. His footfalls made no sound, as did his end of the channel. The soldier returned to work.

The someone continued. "I thought you took precautions. Real precautions, not mere words."

The line of Eclipse had two salarians and an asari: more confirmed deaths on the list. The soldier pushed a salarian off a human, then undid the latter's seals and pulled the helmet off. He waved his omni-tool over the bluish face. _"No match,"_ the program said.

The one on the catwalks asked a question, voice steady.

"I expect you to deal with this problem."

A protest.

Down the line, the next dead human did give a positive. The soldier made a note on the provided second list.

"You should be capable enough of finding a non-violent solution."

A pause, then acquiescence, with a condition.

"Very well. They won't be harmed."

Up on the second level, the man relaxed as the comm channel closed. His helmet visor turned downward, and the soldier averted his gaze. The last two humans, he found, went on the first list. He sent that one to "Bauer," the second one to their shared superior.

When he looked back up, the catwalks were empty. _"Fine. I can't stop them, but I can slow them down,"_ the false Eclipse had said.


	5. Chapter 5

Veshan drove the rented skycar deeper into the dull red haze of Galvek. The seat cushions were too soft and squishy, and he almost bumped his head against the glass countless times, but those were trivial discomforts.

As was Meh'kena's muttered ranting: "Dishonorable, bottom-feeding, parasitic pustules…" Rips turned his luxurious robe to little more than a rag, but he kept his posture straight and his face flat. He rubbed his fingers together the whole way, however, as if his lost coin was still in his hand.

_Dignity is all that's left for him._ Veshan remembered the slaves, hunched over and huddled together in a too-narrow tunnel while the city of Edrakathis burned behind them. Some held out their soiled hands to him, not daring to touch a higher-caste citizen. _"Please go back for my child, my parent, my sibling."_ Even _"my owner."_

_Dignity._ In the present and in the past, Veshan frowned. _They didn't even have that._

His duty wasn't clear then, but it was now. Pixel by pixel, the distance between the car and the marked spaceport on the map shrank. The _Ujon's Reach_ had found a new hangar soon after Veshan's call.

"We're almost there, sir," Veshan said.

"Then I can report this atrocity to Lord Zora. You're sure the Eclipse are responsible?"

_And not you_ was the second part of the question, but Veshan brushed it off. Others of Meh'kena's caste questioned his competence before. "I swear it. By the Pillars."

He glanced at his armor's radar: no hostiles.

"I must wonder what Eclipse thought they stood to gain by this betrayal," Meh'kena said. "Did they mean to take me hostage? Such tactics won't work."

Veshan nodded. "They're desperate." The Hegemony haggled for no batarian lives, save the lords and High Sovereign Lerai above them. They never left Kite's Nest.

He landed the skycar in a lot. The spaceport's front entrance appeared business as usual, no hostiles. Another car took the space beside them, but only civilians emerged. Veshan opened up the doors, looking left and right. _It's not over until we're back in the Harsa system._

Veshan and Meh'kena made a straight line for the spaceport. Yellow in the corner of Veshan's sight—it was an armored asari, but the shade was off, and the logos were missing. Past the door and into the lobby, a squad of mercs appeared from around the corner. Their hardsuits were gray, their helmet lights pale blue. They passed without a word or a glance.

An elevator on the far side of the lobby took them to a wide, branching hallway. A few left turns and a ramp up, and they stepped through a threshold into the hangar. A few batarian guards, weapons out, waited at the bottom of the _Reach's_ docking ramp. The sleek yacht's thrusters hummed. A radar check: still all clear.

Veshan gave Meh'kena a nod, and they ran.

They made three-quarters of the distance. Then _Ujon's Reach_ tore apart in a blossom of fire. With a damning roar the world blurred into bright orange.

A blackened shape slammed into him. His back hit the ground. Other shards rained around him. Burying him, he realized. _Meh'kena—_ He pushed against the debris on top of him, but his arms had little room, and the metal refused to budge. Veshan brought up an omni-blade and jammed it in. His legs burned, but they were minor discomforts. He had to get free.

"Guard-Captain!" he heard someone say.

Like a cruel joke the pile of debris offered a tiny window of the ambassador. Meh'kena took a step towards him. _Now_ the dignity was gone, fear and panic taking its place.

A red dot appeared on Veshan's radar.

"Get down" was on the tip of his tongue when the gunshot tore through the air. Blood burst from Ambassador Meh'kena's head. He toppled over, first to his knees, then onto his side.

Veshan's bladed hand fell limp, the omni-tool vanishing. The body lay a meter in front of him. _Failure._

The hostile was still in the hangar. Veshan powered down his suit. Had the Eclipse sabotaged the _Reach?_ How did the crew not notice? Why didn't he consider that? Lord Zora, or his subordinates, or Veshan's superiors would ask those questions and more when Veshan returned to Khar'shan. _If_ Veshan returned. Maybe it was better to stay here, and join the expatriates.

Ten minutes passed before the radar cleared. Minutes dragged on into half an hour.

_No._ He re-powered his suit systems. Again he stabbed his omni-blade into the debris and started cutting. He had failed his duty, but he would not go back just to report his failure. An ambassador lay dead. Soldiers died with him.

His blade crossed into empty air. The new half of the metal panel fell on his chest. A jolt of pain lanced through him, but he lifted and set it aside. He pulled his legs out from under the other half. The pile of debris collapsed around him. Progress, he hoped. He felt around for a weak spot. When he found it, he pushed. Something gave way. The hole was just big enough.

Veshan crawled through, his whole body aching, and stood. Pieces of the _Reach_ had scattered throughout the hangar, but most of the smoking wreckage sat where the ship once was. _Why has nobody come?_

He didn't want to be here when someone did, however, and there was only one exit. On a hunch, however, he stopped at the door and scanned it. Soundproofing was part of the construction. _This must happen a lot._

Outside, nothing had changed in the rest of the spaceport. Nobody paid him any mind. He almost laughed.

Once he exited the spaceport he rented a new skycar. On the drive back to the wretched city, a single thought steeled his resolve: the next time Enik Veshan set foot on Khar'shan, he would say that those responsible were made to pay. He knew his first target.

 

_Well, shit._ Joker tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. Once again the squad, plus him and Chakwas, were in the conference room, and once again they were talking about Shepard.

This time Kasumi was physically present. "The Blue Suns armor was a dead-end. No cloak, probably just a disguise."

"We did find the shuttle he took from the warehouse," Garrus said. "It had coordinates. Can you take a look at them, EDI?"

Her avatar appeared on the table with a click. "They point to Sui, an uninhabited star system in the Gemini Sigma cluster. Specifically, a gas giant fourth in the star's orbit."

"Any records on it?" Miranda asked.

"None. They may have been wiped. I have also finished tracing the anonymous message," EDI said. "It came from Terra Nova. The sender's name is Samuel Yin, owner and founder of the Yin Security Services mercenary company."

"More mercs?" Kasumi asked.

"Yin," Tali said. "That sounds familiar. Weren't they on the asteroid the batarians tried to drop two years ago?"

Yin, security, asteroid. Joker remembered a conversation on the old _Normandy_ 's bridge. "Wait a sec. Lieutenant Yin. Shepard's friend. She's this guy's kid."

"The N7?" Garrus asked.

"Former N7," EDI said. "According to the Alliance database, she resigned two months after the original _Normandy_ 's destruction."

_Sounds familiar._ But was it for the same reason?

"We've found someone with a connection to Shepard," Chakwas said. "A vaguely personal one. My question is, why would Samuel Yin send this anonymously?"

"Questions abound," Miranda said. "Who left the datapad with the recording, if not Shepard? What's the reasoning behind the password choice?" She sighed. "It seems we can only answer them all by following these new leads."

"Which one first?" Garrus asked. "The gas giant, or Yin?"

Maybe Shepard was lying to those guys, or he knew he was being recorded… _Breathe, Joker,_ and his body complied. They'd find Shepard and Liara holed up somewhere. Shepard would be miffed, or even pissed, but when they explained the situation he'd understand. At least, that was the less rational side of his brain talking.

"I suggest investigating the Gemini Sigma cluster first," EDI said. "The more information we uncover independently, the more likely we'll be able to verify whatever Samuel Yin tells us. One moment, I'm receiving a transmission."

"Containing what?" Miranda asked.

The pause that followed was too long. Joker looked at the still avatar. "Uh, EDI?"

"Command accepted." She sounded as blank as a VI. "Shutting down."

_What the—_

There was no crackle of static, no flickering disintegration of the avatar. EDI blinked out of existence.

"What just happened?" Garrus asked. "Did we get hacked?"

"No way," Joker said. "She would've said something." But something had happened that even EDI stood no chance against, smooth and definitive like a single solid punch to the temple. Or a knife in the dead center of the chest, but that line of thought led nowhere better.

_AI Core_. Joker started towards the door. "Tali."

The two of them entered the lab from one door as Hadley entered from another. "Hey Joker, what's going on?"

He didn't have time for questions. He kept walking. "Something happened to EDI."

"Not just EDI."

That stopped him. "What?"

"We're locked down. The whole ship."

Joker beelined to the cockpit. Crewmen threw more questions and comments his way. The words didn't register. He stopped behind his chair. His haptic flight controls were gone. Red messages overlaid each and every one of his instrument windows.

"Shit," he said. "Shit, shit, shit."

A hand went onto his shoulder. "We should check on EDI," Tali said.

_Breathe._ "Yeah. Let's go."

A deck down, past the door in the med bay, the AI Core had gone dark, the massive hardware silent maybe for the first time. The ambient buzz of the ship remained, but the room seemed as silent as a coffin. Like a paramedic Tali darted for EDI's console and got to work. Joker took a slower pace, with Miranda arriving behind him.

"Well?" Miranda asked.

"It wasn't a hack," Tali said. "Nothing in EDI's logs records an external intrusion. It's more like someone hit the power button."

"That would require entering the shutdown codes."

"And a valid shutdown command _was_ logged."

"And EDI only gave those to…" Joker's gaze fell toward the deck. "Shepard and me. Well. Shit."

"Can you reverse the shutdown?" Miranda asked.

Tali sighed. "It's hard-coded into EDI's system, and I do _not_ want to touch that. EDI might be able to override Shepard's lockdown, but to get her online, we'll need Shepard's code. Joker's won't work."

Miranda stepped towards the door, brought up her omni-tool, and opened a comm channel. "This is Lawson. Everyone to the conference room in five, I'm calling another meeting."

 

"Just us?" Garrus asked.

From the head of the conference table, Miranda traced his gaze: Chakwas, Joker, Tali, Grunt. Like punctuation to that list—or, more likely, some form of belligerence, Jack sauntered in. She glanced at Miranda, raised an eyebrow, then took a spot to the side.

"We've kept the situation to ourselves so far," Miranda said. "Telling the rest of the crew would only invite uninformed gossip. All they need to know is that we're investigating."

"People don't need much to talk," Tali said.

"Believe me, it's better this way." _Better than telling them "Shepard may have sabotaged the ship."_ EDI compensated for most of the departures, and in some cases even exceeded them, but with her deactivated the _Normandy_ was left under-staffed. Damaging rumors about the commanding officer would've ruined the cohesion between what crew remained. Miranda didn't want to deal with uncertainties on both ends of the chain of command.

Garrus shook his head. Joker crossed his arms, gazing at the floor—agitation, helplessness. Shepard had taken his ship. Tali mirrored his body language, but her expression was hers alone to know.

Chakwas cast investigative glances at the others. "If Shepard caused this, his message is clear, if… uncharacteristically blunt." Hand raised to her chin, she turned her gaze to Miranda. "Unless you intend on disregarding it?"

Whenever the Illusive Man had made a questionable decision, Miranda indeed questioned, or protested, or even argued if it was necessary. Her father's obsessions left her in no position to follow blindly. And after the Collectors' base, that truth weighed more than ever. Yet Shepard, for whatever reason, expected blind loyalty now. He punished his crew for questioning and investigation.

They deserved answers. "I do. EDI said we should go to the Sui system, but I don't think that's a viable plan anymore."

"There could be hidden bases in the gas giant's orbit," Garrus said. "Maybe even a small fleet. It might be worth checking out."

"Without the _Normandy_?" Joker asked. "If we don't have her stealth systems, we'd be sitting ducks if we bump into any hostiles."

Miranda nodded. "I don't think we'll be able to get a ship with any real firepower, either."

"Doesn't matter," Jack said. "Faster we get this over with, the better."

"We might find him, or we might find a cold trail. Or even nothing at all. And Joker's right. I'd rather not charge in blindly when we don't have EDI or the _Normandy_ on this. We need to play this carefully. If we go to Yin, we _will_ find something, not just _might._ "

Jack leaned forward on the table, the beginnings of a glare creeping into her expression. "And if we show up at his door, what's to stop him from feeding us bullshit?"

"I never said we were going to trust his every word."

"Who the hell put you in charge anyways?"

"We aren't a Cerberus ship anymore, Jack, but I'm still Shepard's second-in-command."

"The Illusive Man put you here. Now that we're done with him, you're just one of us."

_Predictable._ Miranda saw those remarks coming even before Jack's entrance. "If Shepard wanted me to step down, I would've. Regardless, the sooner we find him, the sooner he can resume command. Can we agree on that?"

Jack stared, then spat "Fine."

"Good. First, we'll need a ship."

Chakwas nodded. "I think I might be able to pull a favor."

A plan, a destination, and a way to get there: the makings of something, at least. Whether Shepard realized or not, he issued her a challenge by disabling EDI and the _Normandy_. Miranda would meet it and then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, the Normandy! And here we have the first big change from the old fic. If the crew wants to find their commander, they'll have to do so without their advanced AI and warship.
> 
> Some narrative commentary: Up until now, the crew's been largely approaching this situation like a Mass Effect 2 mission: get the lead, go to a merc base, shoot it up, get the info. Look at where that got them here. To deal with this enemy, they'll have to use different methods.


	6. Interlude

As the shuttle jumped out of FTL, a turquoise gas giant swallowed the view outside the cockpit, a small shape silhouetted against the haze. Out in the middle of nowhere, Lieutenant Shepard supposed that Doru Station's security lay in keeping a low profile. _If Whitwell's right on her suspicions, that protection didn't extend to its transports._

The shape grew into a large spear. It would've been completely black if not for the streak of gray from the gas giant's light and the yellow dots scattered across its hull. Shepard nodded at the shuttle pilot.

Lieutenant Austin hit a button. "Doru Station, this is a Systems Alliance shuttle from the SSV _Munich_. We're here to discuss one of your recent shipments with the Research Director. Transmitting information and requesting permission to dock."

The silent seconds that followed became half a minute before anyone responded. "Doru Station to Alliance shuttle, please proceed to the main hangar. We'll have someone meet you there."

 _Definitely not expecting me._ That was a telling, but mixed sign.

Austin brought the shuttle into a spacious, brightly-lit hangar at the butt of the spear, meant for several larger vessels sitting side-by-side. Maintenance workers labored at their current task or moved on to a new one. A handful of armored guards, observant but not alert, watched the landing while a man in a suit walked through a main door.

Shepard stood. "Watch these people. You see anything suspicious, radio me."

"Got it," Austin said.

Outside, the station's air was stale and warm, and the chatter among the workers amounted to "do this, do that, cover me, I'm off." Whitwell gave him detective work, and he made that clear, but things had been too calm in Terra Nova's orbit. Even this was a nice change.

More than that, this assignment was preventing another Elysium, so a colony wouldn't have to rely on a lone defender until relief came. But Shepard still ran his hand over his right arm, where the red stripe would've been. _Same color, but a huge improvement._ Half a year since graduation, that thought had become almost reflex.

The suit, meanwhile, approached with a too-stiff walk and a slightly sweaty brow. A stocky, plain-faced man around Shepard's age, he kept his short brown hair neatly styled. "Welcome to our facility…" He looked Shepard in the eye, and he widened his. "Lieutenant Shepard, it's an honor. I'm Ryan Solomon, administrative assistant to Research Director Duran. Please, follow me to her office."

While Solomon took stiff steps with stiff arms out of the hangar, Shepard made his pace casual and relaxed. Past the door, was a massive white corridor that seemed to go on to the other end of the station. Beneath the harsh lights on the high ceiling, guards strolled along narrow catwalks. On the floor, workers drove carts of materials down yellow-bordered lanes while researchers hurried past them, going to and from the various labs on the thoroughfare's sides.

"You're… here on behalf of Admiral Whitwell, correct?" Solomon asked suddenly.

"That's right."

"Of course. She's been a great help to our projects. Was she satisfied with the prototypes?"

"The prototypes are why I'm here."

"Oh. The director will be very interested in her feedback, though… I'm sorry, I can't imagine why she sent you in person instead of just calling."

"That's between the director and me. How long to her office, anyways?"

"Not far, otherwise we'd take a cart."

Solomon was truthful on that account. At the center of one of the "city blocks" was a building labeled "Administration." The too-clean, polished whiteness of the station continued inside. Solomon's stiff pace cracked as he stepped behind his desk, though he found that starchy professionalism again with a gesture to a frosted glass door.

"Thanks," Shepard said as it opened, then stepped through.

Behind a larger desk, the square-jawed Director Duran was as collected as Solomon wasn't. "Lieutenant Shepard." With a tap to the side of her glasses, she dismissed the small interfaces on the lenses. Her charcoal eyes carried a hint of wariness, if Shepard looked hard enough.

"What brings you to Doru?" she asked, all business cordiality.

Shepard made sure the door behind him was closed before he said, "The _Snake Fang_ , the freighter transporting the prototype Javelins? It went missing en route to Terra Nova."

"Missing?" A hint of a frown tugged at Duran's lips. "Please, have a seat."

"Let's start at the beginning. Kobayashi Arms owns Doru Station, right?"

"It does."

"And it has its competitors?"

"It does." She said it exactly the same way as the first time.

"Would they resort to hijacking a transport?"

"Armax, Hahne-Kedar, Entharis… No. There's no history of that."

 _Recorded history, at least._ It was still something to consider. "What about the _Snake Fang's_ crew? How long have they been doing jobs for you?"

"A good year by now. We pay them well above the average, and their captain's always been honest and professional with us."

He'd have to look at the records to verify the first half of that statement, but the second was probably more trustworthy. "All right. That leaves pirates. Or maybe terrorists."

That was Whitwell's suspicion. _"Carefully, but not secretly,"_ she said when he asked how she wanted this done. _"I'm willing to suffer the hit to my reputation if it means the missiles aren't used against us. Or, worse, a human colony. I can picture batarian terrorists relishing the opportunity."_ Always the batarians with her. Their territory made a wedge between the Alliance's core and the Traverse's frontier, a fact Whitwell brought up often, though quietly. But other species numbered in the horde that descended on Elysium.

Duran shook her head. "There aren't many outlaws in this region. It's too remote. And beyond this system, the direct relay route from Gemini Sigma to the Exodus Cluster should be too quick for any pursuits. Which leaves…" More typing. "… the one-day trip from Utopia to Asgard. Both systems are practically in the heart of Alliance colonial space."

"Something had to have happened. If they had an emergency with, say, fuel, where would they go?"

"That's a question for the ship's crew."

"So you have no place to start looking for them in this situation?"

"They aren't Kobayashi Arms employees. Their protocols are their business."

 _Even when they're transporting your valuables?_ That line of questioning would lead nowhere but an argument. "If you say so. One last point of failure: this station itself. Your coworkers are trustworthy?"

Duran frowned. "We run extensive background checks before allowing them aboard a station full of experimental weaponry."

"Good policy, but let's not skip over anything. How about the workers in the hangar? They might know something."

"If they did, I would've heard something."

"You know I'm here on Admiral Whitwell's behalf?"

Duran met his stare for a few moments, but relented. With a sigh, she said, "Very well," and hit a button on a haptic window. "Ryan, tell McCoy to come to my office immediately." Silence came from the other end. "Ryan? Are you there?" Nothing.

Shepard stood up and opened the office door: nobody was at the desk. Maybe that nervousness wasn't just because he was star-struck. "I'll look for him."

"This is a matter for—"

"This is my assignment."

His officer's voice stunned her into a brief silence. She pursed her lips. "Very well, then. But I'm sending a security guard with you."

"Works for me." As Duran started another call he pushed the door the rest of the way open and headed off.

Outside the building, the guard was already there. "We all saw Ryan Solomon go into Maintenance. He was in a hurry."

Their light jog back towards the hangar drew more glances this time. Researchers walking in pairs and groups traded odd looks and whispers. The guard brought him to an elevator beside the main thoroughfare, the sign above it smaller than Administration's counterpart. The ride ended at a small room.

"You know who just got here, right?" Solomon gesticulated at some maintenance worker. "McCoy should just drop whatever he's doing and—"

"Who's McCoy?" Shepard asked.

Solomon jumped. "Oh." He faced Shepard. "You…"

"Your boss called for you while we were talking. You didn't answer."

"Oh." Solomon's face turned beet red. "So sorry. I just thought… well, I checked some records, figured out that the _Snake Fang_ never made it to Terra Nova. That's why you're here, right? I… thought I could help. I know something. Not that I'm involved in whatever happened."

"Slow down. Tell me everything."

"A deep breath might help," the guard said.

Solomon did so, clutching the center of his chest. "Right. So. McCoy, Frank McCoy, he oversees part of the hangar. The captain of the _Snake Fang_ talked to him a lot while he was here. After the ship left, McCoy started acting suspicious. He got all secretive, and he'd disappear at weird times."

"A secretary noticed all this?" Shepard asked.

"Director Duran has me stay informed."

 _The real desk hero._ "So where's this McCoy now?"

"In his office," the worker said. "He doesn't want to be bothered."

Solomon shot him an indignant look. "You know who that is, standing right over there."

At least someone on this station realized that. "I'll pay him a visit," Shepard said.

The worker shrugged. "If you say so. Sir. Down the hall, make two rights."

Those directions led to a plain gray door. Its entrance console was red, and no sound came through it. Shepard raised a fist and made a polite knock. _Definitely detective work._ "Frank McCoy?" he asked, somewhere between a confident assertion and an officer's bark. Seconds passed, nobody answered.

"Frank McCoy? This is Lieutenant Shepard, with the Alliance. I have a few questions."

He glanced behind him at Solomon and the guard, then opened his omni-tool.

"Wow," Solomon said, watching the program work. "If I ever used something like that, I'd be in so much trouble."

The red swapped to green. Shepard brushed his fingertips against it, and the metal snapped to one side. The office's floor and desk were almost hidden under the toolboxes, datapads, and other things. McCoy's chair was off to a side, with part of that mess beneath its wheels. The man's absence was telling, but even more telling was the single sparking hole punched through the computer.

Shepard plucked a datapad from the desk. "Can we get the station on alert for this person?"

"On it," the guard said.

"It's not like he can really get away," Solomon said. "Even if he steals a shuttle, they have tracking devices."

"He might not want to escape."

That was true enough. On an isolated space station, one person with the know-how could do a lot of damage. Shepard put the datapad back in its place. "Any ideas on where he might be?"

"Once he's done with that call," Solomon said, gesturing at the guard. "He won't be able to take any elevators up to the main level. He'll be trapped here. Though 'here' is a large place…" His eyes widened. "The reactor core."

"He'd do that?"

"If I was potentially dangerous with nowhere to go, that's where I'd be." He started off in the opposite direction, towards a shadow at the other end of the hallway. "It's this—"

A gunshot tore through the hallway like thunder. Solomon froze. The shadow ran for it.

Solomon staggered, then slumped onto the wall. Shepard caught him and helped him down to the floor. He shot a glance at the guard. "Get help. Now." As the guard darted back to the stairway, Shepard opened his omni-tool, and Solomon stared at the blood seeping through his fingers.

"Oh god," he said. "Oh god, oh god."

"Stay still." Shepard tore open the jacket, then the dress shirt, then the undershirt. He held his omni-tool to the wound, and the fabricator dispensed a glob of medigel.

 _They're getting away,_ a voice said, but the choice was easy. Shepard stayed with Solomon until the guard returned with help.

"Here's a map of this level, and clearance to get into the reactor core," the guard said, omni-tool open.

Shepard nodded, then stood and broke into a run.

These corridors all led to the same point at the station's heart. _If he tries anything, he's dead,_ Shepard thought, picking up his pace. The path ahead sloped downward. Where the thoroughfare was washed in white light, a single small fixture dotted every other ceiling panel. At the bottom of the slope, every other became every third. Warning notices cropped up on the walls.

One last large door waited at the end. The clearance, he remembered. Thanking the guard, he pressed his omni-tool to the lock and waited for red to turn to green. How long would it take to start a meltdown? McCoy had a head start.

But past the door, Shepard found, was only a small balcony overlooking the small cavern that housed the reactor. Its deep humming filled the entire space. A console was on the end of the platform, and though the man stood in front of it, his hands were nowhere near the keys.

Instead McCoy brandished a handgun. "Hey, there."

"Drop it," Shepard said.

"I can't do that. Hope you understand later." McCoy glanced back at the reactor pit. If he vaulted over the platform's railing, it was at least a twenty-foot drop. A bead of sweat trickled down his face.

"Help me understand now. What were you doing?"

McCoy ground his teeth, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'm not giving you easy answers." Some of the nervousness melted away from his body and from his voice. It was as if he'd stepped on stage for the first time and started delivering his lines. "Find them and follow the trail, Shepard." He raised his gun.

Shepard rushed him, but there was too much distance.

The muzzle met the man's forehead, and his index finger twitched. The gunshot smashed through the reactor's humming. Blood splattered on the wall. From actor to puppet, the man went limp and fell over, like the strings were snapped in half.

He was just a lackey, Shepard realized, considered expendable after he'd been discovered. Putting a gun to his head had to have been an order from higher up. _He said to follow the trail._ The way he said it, those words were spoon-fed to him, too. _An obvious trap._

The hand holding the gun wore a glove for an omni-tool. Shepard knelt, picked it up, and switched it on. The man had kept work logs, extranet bookmarks… _Communications._ Shepard navigated to the man's messages and ran into a password prompt. For that, he opened his own omni-tool. His program cracked the security in short order.

Work, breaks, vacations, reminders, the messages in the inbox seemed innocuous. Some, though, had been sent through secure and undetectable channels. Shepard flipped between them. _Those similarities… they could be a code._ Deciphering it would take time, as would tracing the message to the other ends. Both were things to be done outside of a station's reactor, over a fresh corpse.

One more thing, Shepard decided. He opened the messages' meta-info. The channel info offered one thing of value.

With that he closed the dead man's omni-tool and stood up. A console on the wall had a line to station security. "This is Shepard. I'm at the reactor core. The suspect is dead. I need a team to retrieve the body." _And after that, a trip to Elysium._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shepard: In "Chessboard," I told his fateful Snake Fang mission through brief snippets that preceded every chapter. I decided that interludes better fit what I'm going for. Of course, this is a different Shepard from the present-day one. He's been N7 for only half a year, and his N7 status is, to him, a new height in his ascent.


	7. Chapter 7

**PART II: SCIPIO**

"Here it is," Chakwas said, strolling down the docking arm. "The MSV _En Passant._ "

"Boxes," pilots called Kowloon-class freighters, and the corners and edges of this ship were especially pointy to Joker's eyes. The hull had no scoring or patchy plating, and the thrusters were in decent condition. But this box had definitely seen its fair share of voyages. _It just blends into the rest of the spaceport. Guess that's a good thing right now._ Joker followed Chakwas to the airlock.

"Her owner's a chess buff?" he asked as decontamination ran.

"We play on occasion. I always beat him."

"Chess, small arms, smuggling, medicine. Is there anything you aren't a pro at?"

"Piloting."

"Well, the rest of us need jobs."

The vain hope that the _En Passant_ was more than it seemed died when the inner door parted. The engine core fit "standard" to a T, and the cargo bay was a vast expanse of empty air between walls, ceiling, and deck. A lonely crate sat in a far corner, like a kid on a time-out.

"So this guy owes you so much," Joker said, "you got him to hand over his ship?"

"It's a story we keep between the two of us. Much like your Vanilla Incident."

Grunt passed the two of them from behind, carrying two long supply containers. Garrus soon followed, and pointed to a spot on the deck for them.

"Yikes. That embarrassing?" Joker asked.

"I'll leave that to your imagination."

_Like my imagination isn't overactive._

Grunt made his way off the ship as Garrus opened up one of the crates. He set the metal cases inside it, and the guns inside them, atop the other.

Past the hold was the passenger module, with two quarters on both sides and a handful of human-sized bunk beds in each. _Good thing Grunt and Garrus don't need to be pampered._ Then Joker and Chakwas entered the cockpit. Joker took the pilot's seat and grimaced at the cushions—fake leather. The instruments weren't much better, meant for a civilian's ease of use rather than a professional's optimization.

Joker opened the interface settings. "How much am I allowed to change things up?"

"As much as you'd like, as long as it's back to normal when we're done."

_When we're done_. He got to work. A savvy pilot could get the most maneuverability and speed out of a ship designed with those specs last in mind. The interface, however, lagged a split-second too long behind input. Poor maintenance.

"Joker. Are you all right?" Chakwas asked.

_I really, really want to know what's going on._ What was Shepard doing at that moment? When he sent the transmission that switched EDI off and locked their ship down, what was he thinking?

He shrugged. "I'm not gonna miss Goldman's snoring. Though who knows what Grunt sounds like when he's asleep."

"That isn't an answer."

"Okay fine. I might be scared for my life. There aren't as many bodies between me and Jack and Miranda if the two of them decide to kill each other. Biotics and me? Not a good mix."

Chakwas sighed, shaking her head. "You're doing it again. Like after Shepard's funeral. One joke after another."

_That time, he…_ Joker shook that thought off. Bad habits died hard. "What, should I sit here whining?"

"It helps to talk things out. Maybe not now, and not with me. Miranda asked me to stay aboard the _Normandy_ to keep the crew calm. But please consider it, Jeff."

Her footfalls made light taps as she left. Joker continued with his tunings. His button presses on the windows and keystrokes on the controls fell into a steady rhythm of clicks and beeps, but in minutes, they only added to the white noise in the _En Passant_ 's cockpit.

_That time, he was more observant. He figured something was up, and he sat Shepard down to talk about it._

He finished the adjustments almost an hour later, as Miranda called over comms. "Is everything ready?"

"Yeah," he said. "Starting up pre-flight prep, then I'll set course for Terra Nova."

 

The last time Miranda walked on these streets, she was Ellen Leitner, a grad student at the University of Terra Nova. She wore her hair in a loose ponytail, dyed a rich blonde that drew the eye. _"You're all business,"_ she remembered one of her friends saying. _"Come on out, get some sunshine."_ Henry Lawson's daughter might have refused, but Ellen accepted the invitation. So she joined a social circle, went to parties, spent afternoons in the Arts District of Scott.

_In places like this,_ she thought, coming to a large gate. Made of thin strips of black-green metal curled into fanciful shapes, it seemed like something out of a fairy tale. "Yin Garden," read the letters attached to the top.

During her university days, this place was open park space surrounding an ampitheater in the ancient Greek style. She sat with her friends on the stone benches, drinking coffee and watching a musical act. These days, abstract statues stabbed out of the ground like bone-white knives. The grass had receded, now bordered with exotic plants and the gold plaques identifying them. And as the garden expanded to consume four blocks, its center had shifted away from the theater to a gleaming white palace. Miranda took the cobblestone path towards it, passing by a busy deli and its cheery customers.

"Hidden defenses everywhere," Kasumi said over radio.

Of course there were. A man running a private army had to secure his own headquarters. More interesting was the whimsical touches that permeated every inch of Yin Garden. _So this is your public persona._ With a hint of a frown Miranda recalled the magnanimous Henry Lawson of interviews and magazine covers.

A two-minute walk brought her to a grand colonnade. Up close, the Yin Estate looked even more ridiculous, as if some over-imaginative child had sculpted the sun-catching metal of its walls and roof. Two white-armored guards stood by the massive double doors.

"I'm going in," Miranda said.

As she approached, one of the guards held up a hand. "Sorry, ma'am, the estate isn't open to visitors during the day. You're free to enjoy the gardens, however, and Tranquility is one of the highest-rated lunch spots in Scott." It was a very well-practiced sales pitch.

"I'm here to speak with Mister Yin. He contacted me for a meeting."

"Name?"

"Miranda Lawson."

The talking guard checked a list on his omni-tool. "Lawson, Lawson… right, there you are. Apologies for the delay, we'll take you to Mister Yin. He's expecting you."

_Is he?_ Miranda hid any reaction.

Inside, Yin Securities guards escorted her over colorful rugs depicting fantastical scenes. Paintings, murals, and tapestries covered pale marble walls. As Miranda appreciated them from her peripheral view, an old lesson came to her: _"Display wealth in moderation. Make sure they know what you're worth, but if you overdo it you'll look desperate. Never look desperate."_ But Yin transformed a humble park into a fairytale land with a fairytale palace.

_Ostentatious elegance to conceal the guns?_ Her guards _were_ soldiers in a private army. They led her to an elevator of mirrors, then through an even more lavish hallway on the fourth floor, then at last to a dark wooden door boasting elaborate carvings that opened as she stepped up to it.

A chandelier of curly bronze wire brushed the room with gentle light. Below it, haptic windows, datapads, and more left little desk to work with, but the small man in the throne-like chair worked through his mess with deft hands.

"Sir," one of her escorts said, "Miss Lawson."

The man looked up at the arrivals, adjusting the gold-trimmed sleeves of his black suit. His smooth, pale face was all angles, his short black hair slicked back. "Ah. Welcome." With a brief nod he sent off the the guards, then turned a curt smile to Miranda. "Have a seat. Samuel Yin, founder and owner of Yin Security Services."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Miranda said. The chair she took had a tall back topped with a bronze lion head. "You likely know what my business here is."

Yin's smile thinned with amusement. His slate gray eyes narrowed. "The message I sent to your ship, yes. 'Shepard is lying to you. Find him quickly.'"

_He admits it in the first minute of conversation._ Not what she expected, but there had to be a motive behind such blunt honesty. "You sent it anonymously to my helmsman, but I was told you were expecting me."

Yin shrugged. "The pilot's address was the first I came across. I knew by reputation your ship's crew would be able to trace the message to me, but I'm surprised you arrived so soon. I apologize for the subterfuge. A necessary precaution, given what we're dealing with."

"You sound like you know about this 'what.'"

"Shepard's puppeteers are an elusive bunch, but indeed I do."

"Puppeteers?"

"I imagine he invented some reason to disappear? It's not of his own free choosing. I have good information that these people are dangling a secret of his over his head. What exactly that secret is, I can't say."

_Because you don't know, or because you don't want to?_ Every word choice mattered. "So he's being blackmailed. By who?"

"A group of extremists. Violent extremists, with a pro-human agenda."

Cerberus came first to mind, but that struck an amusing chord. She considered herself neither violent nor extreme. Shepard, however, would've died _again_ before returning to them, and Miranda built Cerberus's files on him. The closest thing to blackmail material was Shepard's history with gangs. The Tenth Street Red who threatened to use it received a slug to the head for his trouble, but it was still public record. _It has to be something else. Something I don't know._ Amusement turned into irritation at that thought.

"You don't have a name for them?" she asked.

"None, other than aliases."

"And how do you know about them?"

Yin looked away. "They were my clients once, calling themselves the 'Cornelius Research Group.' They claimed they wanted independence from the corporations on Noveria, so I helped them with lab security. Then my men's reports made me suspicious, and I investigated them. What I found was far worse. So I chose not to renew the contract when it expired."

"Yet you seem to keep tabs on what they're doing."

"I watch them, from a safe distance."

"But closely enough to know they've 'recruited' Commander Shepard." _And you don't have a name for them?_

An expression resembling offense crossed Yin's face. "Forgive me, Miss Lawson. I understand your suspicion, but I am sincerely trying to help you."

" _Why_ are you trying to help us?"

"Because these people are a red mark on my company's reputation. I want the stain cleaned. And… I believe what they're doing is wrong, so they should be stopped. Acquiring a person as important as Shepard means they have plans. Freeing him from their grasp likely means that their plans fail. You want your commander back."

"The old saying applies, then?"

"Our goals align. Let me help you."

"How?"

"Information and an opportunity. Think of it as a chance to verify what I'm telling you."

_We'll be verifying everything soon enough,_ she thought. Though she intended on learning something at this meeting, she was playing the distraction. "Friend" was too strong a word to describe the enemy of an enemy.

 

As the soldiers ushered Miranda into the elevator on the first floor, the hidden plus-one split off from the entourage and got to work. Kasumi stood at the center of a T-intersection. To her right were restroom signs and a restaurant called "The Finale," and to her left was a cordoned-off flight of stairs and a nightclub called "The Ever After." Her visor had more interesting things to display.

Wires ran behind the tapestries and the marble, powering hidden cameras (normal), alarms (normal), listening devices (a little creepy), and turrets (definitely not normal). Crevasses in the ceiling housed thick partition doors. _And this is supposed to be the visitor area._

The cameras and listeners fed into somewhere. EDI could've produced a floor plan of the Yin Estate, but without her, getting a hold of one was part of Kasumi's task.

She ducked beneath the cord and took the stairs up. A solid metal door blocked her way into the second floor. Hacking it was simple enough, but a locked door opening on its own would've drawn attention. Bewildered confusion sometimes led to dangerous alert. So Kasumi waited.

Two minutes later, a YSS soldier approached. Kasumi pressed her back against the wall as he passed her to input the code and scan his retina. The door opened. She tailed him an inch behind and got through.

Polished white and gray metal replaced marble on the walls, ceiling, and floor. The only decoration was the YSS logo, a stylized silver shield emblazoned with a gold letter "Y." Where the first floor chandeliers' light held a tint of yellow, the fluorescents on the second had none. Even the air was a bit colder. She'd crossed into a different world, sleek and orderly and very paramilitary. _With lots of money behind it._

The soldier she followed went one way down the corridor, and she took the other. Again her visor picked up the cameras and listening devices, the partition doors and automated turrets. Two unarmored soldiers exiting a room gave her a glimpse of a huge mess hall. Another similar situation hinted at an equally large barracks.

A soldier unknowingly escorted her to the third floor, identical in aesthetics to the last. "Security Room," said a sign pointing left. She followed it, and a second soldier unknowingly let her in.

The guard already inside had his face glued to the spread of camera feeds. There were views of the three gates to Yin Garden, the deli and the theater, and all the entrances to the estate itself. In one corner, Miranda and a man who was probably Yin himself chatted on two ridiculous-looking chairs.

"So, Khalili," her doorman said, "who's Y-Monarch's guest this time?"

"Who?" Khalili, standing up, glanced at the office feed. "Some businesswoman, probably. Negotiating a contract for some place in the middle of nowhere."

"You always say that."

"Because I'm usually right."

While the two did smalltalk, Kasumi had her omni-tool open. Silent keystrokes flicked a spy program into the surveillance network, and the security station made no complaints. Then Khalili traded places with the doorman. Kasumi tailed the former on his way out.

Her next destination, on the other side of the estate, had a door three times wider than any other. As she approached from up the hallway, her visor painted an orange square on the floor in front of it.

_A pressure plate. Cute._

Tactical cloaks masked all light reflecting off their wearers, perfect for getting past eyes organic and synthetic. Wherever there was gravity, however, a cloak couldn't hide its wearer's weight. But only a real novice would trigger one. The electricity powering it was easy enough to spot.

Why would Yin be worried about stealthed intruders? Cloaks were rare and expensive. _Well, the fake Tri-Ward guard had one._

Leaping over the plate into the room needed too many things to go right for her. So Kasumi opened her omni-tool, ran a calculation, and delved into the plate's internals. She had her adjustment ready to go as she crept towards the edge of the plate. Her timing had to be precise. Doubly so if a VI was monitoring the plate.

The door opened. A soldier emerged. At that moment, she hit a haptic key and stepped onto the plate. Its internal default went to a negative, and the reading amounted to only the soldier's weight. Kasumi walked on in.

Inside were several more YSS guys, some armored, some just in uniform. Consoles lined the long walls. A command platform in the center overlooked a wiry hologram of Scott. Kasumi took faint steps along the spotless metal floor. Her cloak and suit would take care of everything, but this was the real heart of Yin Security Services's operations.

 She reached the closest unoccupied station. With a few keystrokes on her omni-tool, two programs embedded themselves into YSS's systems.

"Lieutenant Alvarez reports some concerns from Bekenstein," a YSS guy said. "There's evidence that the mayor of Milgrom is embezzling to pay our contract."

"There an official investigation?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have Alvarez cooperate with it, then. I'll tell Legal that we might have to cancel the contract and repay the city."

The installations finished. Already a few files began trickling into her omni-tool. _And that's that._

She spent the next half-hour overlooking the garden theater—from the top of the wall behind the stage, with her feet dangling some ten meters from the ground. Some local singer strummed an old-looking guitar while belting out a song she'd never heard. _I wonder how much that guitar could sell for._

Then her earpiece clicked. "Have you finished?" Miranda asked.

"Since a while ago. Right now we have partial access to the estate's surveillance, databases, and transmissions. Give it a few hours and we'll have total access. How'd Y-Monarch turn out? That's what the grunts call him."

"I'll explain everything on the ship. But it seems our next destination is Omega."

"We're going to trust him?"

"Of course not. He didn't tell me everything, and he has an agenda. But he is our only lead. If he's using us, then we'll use him, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The En Passant: Alas, it's a considerable downgrade from the Normandy. To continue the chess theming of this fic, en passant is a move in which one pawn captures another when the second pawn moves two spaces forward from its starting position and the first could've captured it if it had moved one space forward.
> 
> Ellen Leitner: Miranda went blonde for her grad school years. That's a reference to Yvonne Strahovski's natural hair color and to Miranda's original concept art. "Leitner" is a reference to Miranda 2 in "Blindside."
> 
> Samuel Yin: Re-introducing the owner and founder of illustrious Yin Security Services. Funny, the difference between what he shows Miranda and what Kasumi sees for herself.


	8. Chapter 8

The _En Passant's_ cargo bay served as armory in one corner and conference room in another, but the whole space out-sized their counterparts on the _Normandy_ combined—several times over. _Guess that makes our cargo weapons and plans,_ Joker thought, _and we're trading them for a commander and a secret. We just need to find the buyer and haggle. Probably at gunpoint._

"It's not like we have much choice," Tali said while Joker approached the squad at the conference corner.

"We have a choice," Miranda said. "We can go back to the _Normandy_ and wait for Shepard to return, just like he wants."

Grunt scoffed. "And miss out on cracking the skulls of some terrorist pyjaks?" He paused. "We are doing that, right?"

"Likely. Yin invited us to help raid an enemy outpost at Omega. We'll be working alongside his soldiers."

"I'll handle that op," Garrus said.

Miranda nodded. "You know Omega better than the rest of us."

"One more thing." Kasumi did something with her omni-tool, bringing up half a dozen windows. "The programs I set up at Yin's house are up and running, but there's a lot to go through. And as much as I love to multitask…"

"I can take care of it," Joker said. For the first time the squad's attention was focused on him. "What? You all have your action-y things to do. I've just been sitting here the whole day." A good chunk of piloting was watching for anomalies in his flight instruments and reporting them to engineering. Even the little blips were worth looking into. Pouring through Yin's junk didn't seem like a stretch.

He prepared to say as much, but Kasumi just nodded. "Works for me."

She stayed right behind him on the walk back to the cockpit. Her hood's shadow hid her eyes, but her lips held that same faint smile they always did, like everything was an amusement to her. _And everything probably is. "The world's not gonna give you anything if you just stand there grinning,"_ he once told Shepard, but giving and taking applied differently to a master thief.

"This should only take a few seconds," Kasumi said as they entered the cockpit. Joker took his seat while she worked her omni-tool. "Just have to send my directories over, reroute the connections…" With dramatic flair she hit a last key. "There."

That opened the floodgate. Six new haptic windows joined his flight instruments in an orange cascade: record and log files, camera and microphone feeds, incoming and outgoing transmissions.

"Careful giving a man this much power," he said. "I could turn into another Illusive Man right here."

"If you did, maybe you could commission a _Normandy_ SR-3."

"Hey, the SR-2's got plenty of life left in her. Well, she will, when we get her and EDI up and running again."

Kasumi paused. "I'm sure it wasn't personal."

"Well, yeah, Shepard probably wasn't thinking 'ahaha, screw Joker' when he hit the off button." But in some ways, that was both good and bad.

 

Afterlife lacked the height to tower over much of anything, but the pale beam shooting up from its roof made the difference. "Come to the center of Omega," it said to everyone else. "Stay away," it said to Archangel. So Garrus's Omega was this market, with the bustle carrying from kiosk to kiosk and the chatter and haggling blurring into a mess of energy. Not Aria's throne.

_No mercs._ When he arrived as a stranger, his resignation from C-Sec still fresh, Blood Pack and Blue Suns and Eclipse patrolled the Omega Central Market. On occasion they'd stop at a stall. Either the merchant sent over a monthly payment, or the merc dragged them off to an unseen fate. No uniforms stood out now.

Garrus and Grunt stepped onto the market floor and its ocean of multicolored lights. A batarian shouted something about discounted vids. His face prompted a memory: gunning down Blue Suns, dispensing medi-gel on their victim's wounds. _"I owe you everything,"_ the merchant said.

Garrus allowed himself a pleased nod at his handiwork, his and Shepard's. "Things are looking up for these people."

"We're not here to pat ourselves on the back," Grunt said. "We're here to find Shepard."

"I doubt Yin's troops have found him. But hopefully working with them will get us a step closer."

Grunt growled, drawing a startled glance from a passing salarian. "Tiptoeing in fancy houses. Bartering with rich people. I don't like it."

"None of us do."

"My place is at Shepard's side, killing his enemies."

_Right now,_ we _might be his enemies._ But he hadn't fired a shot at them yet.

"Without a battlemaster, I go to Tuchanka. I don't want to. Not yet."

_He sees things so simply._ Did Shepard's actions matter to him at all? _Maybe they can't._

The YSS office was perched on the top floor of a complex on the other end of the market. Garrus stepped through its front door and found himself in a slice of the Yin Estate, seen from Kasumi's visor camera. But where the sleek whites and silvers were sandwiched between Yin's ridiculous displays on Terra Nova, this office seemed more like an invader, its polished perfection against Omega's grit.

A guard led Garrus and Grunt to a small war room. There, another soldier welcomed them with a crisp salute. Two gold stripes circled the sleeves of her uniform. "I'm Commander Madison. It's an honor to meet you. We all admire what you've accomplished here. A four-person defense against an overwhelming hostile force isn't an easy feat."

"Wasn't there for that," Grunt said, "but I wish I was."

Garrus offered a casual nod. "That detail isn't common knowledge."

Madison smiled. "YSS has a half-decent intelligence division. It's how we stay ahead of the competition. Now…" She gestured at the table. Its surface lit up, projecting a flat image of a floor plan. "This is our target."

"An apartment complex?" Garrus asked.

"In the Gozu District. The residents either died or evacuated when the plague hit a few months back. Since then our shared enemy's taken it over. Like parasites living in a husk."

"Any details on what we're up against?"

"As far as we know, tactical cloaks."

"Countermeasures?"

"Damping grenades would work, but with narrow hallways and low ceilings, they'd go for close-quarters engagements. I don't think disabling our own tech is worth the risk."

"Then we can't spread out too thin to cover ground. We'd be too vulnerable."

Madison tapped two of the edges of the floor plan. Her fingers left a circular mark. "Luckily, there are only two entrances, and between us we have an assault team of six."

"Eight." _Four of you, and four of us._ Equal numbers tended to tip things in the squad's favor.

"The more, the merrier. We'll have one team of four search the west side, the other the east. The building has four floors. Plenty of opportunity for stealth ambushes."

"Or slaughters," Grunt said.

Madison chuckled. "YSS's primary objective is to secure intelligence about the enemy's operations, but capturing hostiles would be helpful, too. So hopefully not too big of a slaughter."

"Might not be possible," Garrus said. "They prefer suicide over capture. Pills in their teeth."

"That hardcore about secrecy, huh? All right. That aside, what do you think of the plan?"

_There's something missing._ "It'll work, as long as we're careful."

On the way out, soldiers threw all kinds of compliments and flattery their way. An extra ten minutes had passed by the time they emerged onto the streets and the rust-red of the station reasserted itself.

"I don't like them," Grunt said. "They're too… clean."

Garrus ran a search on his omni-tool. His stint as Archangel taught him that almost every structure on Omega had its floor plan somewhere within his reach. _Residential… Ek'thari 21… there._ The first floor looked just like the one YSS had shown them. He flicked through the upper floors—also the same.

On the list, however, was a new item: "Basement." Garrus examined its blueprint.

"Your instincts might be right." He opened the communications channel. "Yin's officer left a few details out of her briefing."

"Did she?" Miranda asked, unsurprised.

"They said their attack plan covered all the entrances, but they didn't mention the basement level at all. And there's an entrance into the building on that floor, too."

"I doubt they were being negligent."

"No worries," Kasumi said, "I've got it covered."

 

Veshan, lurking by the side of a busy thoroughfare, watched the Eclipse lieutenant stroll inside an apartment building. Flicking his gaze around—no yellow armor, at least—he pushed himself off the wall and followed.

Hunting for clues, tailing suspects. In its cold intensity, the search was almost like retreading old steps, before the Bira outpost and the Edrakathis incident that put him there. The slums of Greats Tanbir held a similar dim red as the streets of Galvek, and there were enough batarians to half-convince Veshan that he'd returned. Funny how things worked, for his first time outside the Harsa system. The comfort of familiarity, however, retreated behind a more recent memory: gunfire, running. An explosion and a single shot. Failure.

If he detached himself, he could see that Valdez and his feeble arguing were a distraction, even if Valdez didn't know that. Bauer made her superior into a sacrifice. But that didn't account for the _Ujon's Reach_. The same questions he asked himself while pinned beneath the debris remained unanswered.

 Fingers clicked against keys as he ascended the last few steps and came to the floor he needed, in the middle of a hallway. The Eclipse lieutenant pecked at a door's entrance console, like she always did at this time of day. She was too specific and didn't stay long enough for it to be a true residence.

Veshan crept towards her. The door beeped and slid to the side. He unclipped his pistol, stopped behind her. She saw him coming but it was too late when he raised the muzzle to the back of her head.

"Don't. Move."

Lieutenant Bauer froze for a moment, then she laughed at him. "And I'm supposed to be looking for you."

"Hands in the air. Why?"

She complied with cool confidence. "What do you think?"

_I'm the only survivor._ But why not let him return to the Hegemony with the story? It would've put Eclipse in a position of strength. Maybe humans were as bloodthirsty as the government said, but this one seemed more the schemer than the butcher. Veshan had served both types in the Harsa Aegis.

It was a second of thought spent on Bauer's question. She took that second to snap her elbow into his chest. He staggered back. She spun around and came at him. A bright orange blade flashed in her hand. He threw himself to the side of the hallway. Her lunge met empty air.

"Idiot," Veshan said.

As he stepped towards her she threw a punch, her omni-tool crackling. He sidestepped again and took that as an invitation: his arms on each of her one, a squeeze, and a snap.

She gasped, and cried out. Music to his ears.

He wrangled both the intact arm and the broken one behind her back and slapped haptic slave shackles on her wrists. With a sharp shove they both entered the apartment.

"I know when something doesn't add up," he said. "Captain Valdez was supposed to be in charge of you scum, but he never had control of the situation, did he? You did."

"Interesting story. Are you writing a novel?"

"Are you going to ask me useless questions all day?"

"Useless questions for a useless guard."

The apartment yielded as little as she did: a made bed, a neat desk, a closed closet—a rat hole for a rat. But even the smallest burrows had their secrets. One pair of eyes on Bauer at all times, Veshan rummaged through sheets, drawers, datapads. She watched him, a mix of pain and focus.

At the bottom of a drawer was a large book, some human drama for the stage, according to his translator. As he picked it up, the human froze. The cover was a leathery thing, thick and worn, with frayed browning pages beneath it. But when Veshan opened it, a tiny datapad rested in a hollow carved through the paper.

"Well," he said, activating it. Lines of human characters raced across the screen from left to right.

When the translator made sense of them, he froze. He went over each word one by one, then in clusters, as if there were other meanings that the translation couldn't get across.

He didn't hear Bauer until she barreled into him. His back slammed against the wall, though his armor absorbed the impact. Veshan flung the datapad aside, grabbed her by the front of her face. As he swung the arm that held her she spun around. His grip broke. There was a fizzling sound as her good arm, now free, reared back for a punch. He smacked her fist aside. Aimed his pistol.

"Occupants of Unit 512, step into the hallway," a voice said from outside. "Hands up."

When he looked back, the door was half-open and human was gone.

_Captivity, then._ The datapad was his evidence, but giving it or its information to the wrong people would make him a worthless prisoner. He dumped it back into the book and threw that back into the drawer. It was better than nothing.

Outside, three batarians and a turian awaited him. No logos or crests marked their armor.

Veshan stepped towards them with his hands up and his palms out. "How did you find me?"

The turian grabbed his wrists, and this time the shackles were on Veshan. "We have eyes everywhere. You think your casual stroll out of the spaceport didn't go unnoticed?"

"Who do you work for? Where are you taking me?"

A batarian snickered. "You haven't been here for very long, have you? You're now an honored guest of the queen of this station."

They escorted him out of the building and into an armored shuttle. As the door closed, their destination became clear: the lone spire of light transcending Galvek's cityscape, lancing into the upper reaches of the lonely refuge.


	9. Chapter 9

The two YSS soldiers pressed up against both sides of the door. Exchanging hand signals between themselves and omni-tool messages with the other teams, the only sound they made was the subtle shifting of their clean white hardsuits. For a heartbeat it was like the raid on Chora's Den all that time ago. Garrus watched Ashley and Kaidan work through an odd situation with the efficiency only well-trained soldiers had. Yin's troops moved and communicated much the same way those old friends did, and they incorporated the last-minute additions almost as seamlessly.

Almost, because beside Garrus, Grunt ground his teeth, placed into the rear and not on point. The two of them, as well as Jack and Tali in the other group, made for a conspicuous team—not just for whatever enemy lurked inside, but also for the new "allies." Cerberus made themselves look accommodating, too.

Silvers gave the Alliance "go" signal. Roxas opened the door, and the squad filed through, rifles out. Garrus stood and followed, enabling his helmet's night vision.

The place, though pitch-black, still resembled any other Gozu District apartment complex. Mercenaries and looters and plague had picked it clean of both valuables and occupants, while Shepard or Mordin or Aria's people cleaned it of mercenaries and looters in turn. Garrus stalked down a hallway, poked around a corner. Now it remained clean, no equipment or containers—or people—in plain view.

_A trap? From Shepard's people, or from Yin?_ If Yin was telling even an iota of truth, these were people he needed help with. What if he was working _with_ them? Miranda had picked a team of heavy-hitters for that possibility, but the YSS squad hadn't crept into a good position to open fire on them. Though there was that unmentioned entrance…

Instead they fanned out, opened each apartment up, and inspected them. Two searches in, Silvers emerged from an apartment, signaling "all-clear" as the dimmest light flickered behind him.

Garrus pointed his rifle. A figure de-cloaked and swiped. Silvers whirled around just as the omni-blade bit his armor. Staggering, he took a shot, but the figure swiped his gun aside. Garrus fired. The three-slug spray rippled against the figure's shield. The assailant flung themselves out of sight.

Roxas cried out. He clutched at his neck, a second assailant stepping back and fading into their cloak. Grunt charged forward. His shotgun barked, but found nothing.

The first had ducked into the apartment, but it was empty, and no red dots remained on Garrus's HUD. He opened the shared comm channel. "Vakarian here. Hostile contact, no fatalities. Stealth tech, like you said."

"Copy that," Commander Madison said. "We've run into them, too, but no problems other than minor hardsuit damage."

"Keep us posted. Vakarian out."

"We should keep moving." Silvers gestured with his rifle's barrel. "Either they keep hiding or they show themselves, and next time we'll be more prepared."

"Close the door behind us, so we'll know he's coming."

They searched the rest of the building in peace, floor by floor, in and out of each apartment. For all they knew, more hostiles were lurking in the shadows, waiting to spring another ambush or worse. The latter seemed more likely, Garrus decided, stealing a glance at the dark slash in Silvers's armor.

In the last apartment they searched as four, Grunt stepped out of a room with a small computer in his hands. "I found this."

"Let me see," Roxas said, and Grunt handed it over. The soldier waved his omni-tool over it. "Seems cle—"

"This is Madison." The alarm was clear in her voice. "My team has been sealed in at... oh, shit."

Grunt chuckled. "Doesn't sound good."

"Come on," Silvers said, turning towards the exit. "They're at Unit 423A—"

Then the apartment door slammed shut. _And there's the trap._

A small pop sounded from the ceiling--or from a vent. Garrus's HUD blared a warning: airborne chemical compounds. Instinct forced him to check his hardsuit seals: all intact. He ran to the door. "Grunt, you all right?"

"The cowards didn't touch me."

Silvers and Roxas, however, doubled over, then collapsed to their knees, hands tearing at their own throats. As Garrus worked on the lock, it became clear what the ambushes were for.

There was some damn good encryption on the lock. "Jack, Tali," he said on the private channel, "I need a status report."

"Our guys are dead." Jack didn't sound remorseful. "We're fine."

The two YSS soldiers were face-down and unmoving, and on the HUD their vitals had gone dark. Grunt nudged Roxas's body with his foot. "I knew they wouldn't last long."

Garrus ignored him. A minute later, the chemical warning ended and he got the door open.

The trap had told a lot about how the enemy operated, but even more telling was what they _didn't_ do. Their omni-blades cut through the soldiers' armor with quick, precise strikes from the shadows. The gas finished them off. But the blades never came near Garrus or Grunt, and not because of neglect.

_Shepard?_

 

The third YSS team stalked deeper into the pitch-black side by side. Both soldiers had no weapons out.

Miranda knew the feed from Kasumi's visor wasn't the only view on them, and they knew someone was following them—if not Kasumi, the hostiles their comrades encountered on the upper levels. They made their entrance half an hour after Commander Madison reported contact, and ever since, they kept a confident, steady pace with their hands at their sides. It was a challenge: _"Attack us. We dare you."_

They rounded a corner. That turn left only one possible destination. Miranda found the haptic map among the cockpit's many open windows and pressed her finger against a storage room. Kasumi needed to get ahead of them, but the hallway was too narrow.

The communications channel sounded: the upper floor teams had walked into gas traps. As YSS soldiers died on Garrus and Tali's feeds, omni-blades flashed into being on Kasumi's. Like clockwork, two enemies pounced. One soldier caught his attacker's wrist before the blade reached his armor. The other sidestepped the strike. Both summoned omni-blades of their own as a gap between them appeared.

"Go," Miranda said, and Kasumi slipped through.

The storage room was down the hallway. Miranda expected numerous crates and containers inside, and that Kasumi would have to scramble to find Yin's objective. Instead, the answer was alone in front of her: a line of metal crates, each marked with batarian text that a translator dealt with in no time.

"Uh," Joker said, seated next to Miranda. "Those are bunch of nukes."

She muttered a curse. "Kasumi, can you disable them?"

"I'd need a lot more time than a few seconds."

Faint gunfire filtered through the speakers as Kasumi spoke. Whoever was winning that fight outside, either possibility was unacceptable. _Either they stay in the terrorists' hands or they fall into Yin's. Or we stop both of them._ Kasumi was more than capable of fighting off two mercenaries. With the rest of the YSS team dead, Garrus and the others would beat any reinforcements to the storage room.

_And then we lose Yin's help, and maybe Shepard._

"Do you have tracking devices on you?" Miranda asked.

Kasumi ran up to the nukes. Moments later, she placed a tiny metal pin on each. "Done."

_It's something._

The view shifted as Kasumi backed away into a corner of the room. The door opened, and a dark-armored corpse slumped down to the threshold. Both YSS soldiers stepped on it.

"Shame about Madison and the others," one said. "At least we got the warning."

The other put his hand on the side of his helmet. "Irons to Y-Monarch. The objective is secured." He paused. "Yessir. Not a word." Another pause. "Aye-aye. Irons out."

The first approached the nukes. "Scipio's been busy. What were they doing with all this?"

_A name. Their organization?_ If mere foot soldiers knew it, then Yin knew it. Miranda felt her fingers digging into her palm.

"Keeping them until they could ship them off to the Traverse," Irons said. "Besides, not a word, remember?"

 

"You found nothing?" Yin asked, frowning.

Miranda matched Yin's perfect tone of disappointment with one of tense frustration. Unlike his, hers had some sincerity behind it—a fact that vexed her further. "I apologize. Our cooperation didn't work as we'd planned."

"No, no. My intelligence must've been faulty, and my own employees paid for that mistake. I won't let it happen again."

"Have you found any new leads in the mean time?"

"None, sadly. I'll keep you informed. Rest assured, we'll make these people answer for what they've done. Good hunting." The call ended and winked out, returning the hold to its normal grays.

"What's the point?" Jack asked. "The son of a bitch played us." There were murmurs of agreement from the others.

"Better to keep up appearances than cut ties," Miranda said. "We might be able to make use of him later."

"Even after he used us to get his hands on six nukes?" Garrus asked. "Because these Scipio people could've killed us along with Yin's soldiers, but they didn't. I think Shepard's the reason for that."

"So, us being there made them hold back," Tali said.

"Or we were a distraction, forcing them to plan around us."

"Good to know Shepard still cares," Joker said.

"I'd have rather disarmed them, but there wasn't time. Tracking them was the best course of action."

"There's only one use for a nuke," Garrus said.

_He outplayed me. Will admitting it get us any closer to our goal?_ Miranda sighed. "It's a possibility. But even if we confronted him, I doubt he would've been forthcoming. For now, we should focus on Scipio. What else have we found on them?"

Garrus stepped forward. "We know how they operate. I don't think they have the manpower to match Yin Security Services, but they have the tech to make up the difference. As for the gas…" He looked at Kasumi.

"Pretty sure it's salarian STG. I'm familiar with their work. The gas is only good for a minute, then it becomes harmless. To minimize collateral damage and all."

"We also found a computer in the building," Tali said. "Most of the files were wiped, but I pieced together a report on a recent Scipio operation on Omega. A batarian diplomat was negotiating an arms deal with Eclipse. Scipio assassinated him."

Garrus opened his omni-tool. "Now the compare those details to this broadcast all over Omega's public channels."

A new window appeared, with the image of a scarred human woman. _"This is Eclipse Lieutenant Bauer, here with a warning. Two days ago, the Batarian Hegemony attempted a public attack on Eclipse personnel in the Xierim District. Most of my men died, but I'm not the only survivor. I just learned that Aria T'Loak is sheltering a Hegemony soldier at Afterlife. Sheltering, when he might know what the Hegemony's up to. To protect Omega from further attacks, I demand that Aria turn over the guard to Eclipse."_

_Kill the diplomat to turn the parties against each other?_ "Bold," Miranda said. "I'm not sure Eclipse is in a position to demand anything from Aria."

"Not by themselves," Garrus said, "and not even with the other big companies backing them."

"Even the Blue Suns?" Miranda asked. "Half of them are batarian."

"Most of them are expats or born out here. Their support's quieter than the Blood Pack's, but there all the same."

"Anderson mentioned something about this," Joker said. "The mercs and the batarian government not getting along. He thought it might've been Cerberus, but maybe it's Scipio?"

Garrus nodded. "Seems that way. But only one person might be able to tell us more."

This seemed too clean after Yin's move. Miranda found it almost as untrustworthy. "The batarian guard the lieutenant mentioned. It's a little convenient that a promising lead was the only thing left on that computer."

Garrus shrugged. "I'd rather deal with Aria than with Yin. Everyone knows what Aria wants."

"Then you should keep an eye out. I get the feeling we'll have to deal with more tricks before this is over."


	10. Chapter 10

The heart of Omega wouldn't stay this calm.

People of all species went about their business through Afterlife Square. A steady flow entered and exited the Valdarines, twin buildings boasting the station's best businesses—as well as the largest "taxes" on said businesses. Between them lay the center of the square, with not a monument or memorial in sight. Afterlife was the undisputed crown gem of its namesake square. Aria's zero tolerance for contenders shaped life on Omega to the core, the soldier knew.

Amid the bustle of the people and the faint music from Afterlife, the sound of heavy footfalls drew many gazes. From his tiny cut of the square, the soldier, clad in a face-covering helmet and undecorated armor, turned his head with theirs. Nine Eclipse troopers, eight in double-file and one at the lead, walked in a straight line to the square's center.

Lieutenant "Bauer" stared down each of the guards in front of Afterlife as her own men formed up in a square around her. "Aria!" she said.

Everyone recognized her voice. Everyone recognized her face. The near-constant broadcasting of her message made sure of it. Afterlife Square fell still and silent, all eyes on the fake Eclipse lieutenant. _The show's starting,_ the soldier thought.

The first half-hour was familiar: "People are dying," Bauer said. "What are you doing about it, Aria?" Afterlife's guards conferred via omni-tool. Then they formed a line before the front door, its lock red. The ray of light remained shining, however, and the animated dancer above the club's sign carried on.

Meanwhile, Bauer drew people like a magnet. By the hour mark, her crowd covered half of the square. Another thirty minutes, and it took the whole square.

One by one she laid out the "symptoms:" fights in the streets, small wars behind closed doors. "But this is Omega. Fights are old hat. Wars come and go. I'd be the first to agree, but this is different." Mercenary companies formed several of the pillars holding the Terminus Systems up, she explained. What happened when they were knocked down?

A human man came forward. Batarians put his company out of business. Another blamed batarians for the death of his son in a mine accident. Poorly maintained equipment, he said. Finally, an asari came forward: Captain Emil Valdez's lover. Not once did Bauer mention the Hegemony or Aria's survivor, but her following did that for her. She listened as they ranted, then offered gently worded sympathies. But the soldier knew the agent who rigged the transporter mech to blow in that mine, and he knew the hostage who put the round through Valdez's head.

_Bauer should run for office,_ he thought, with both respect and disdain.

Then a mass of newcomers emerged from one of the streets leading into the square. The crowd parted for them with some reclutance, and the soldier skirted around the edge for a better look. The thirty batarians stopped mere feet away from the Eclipse they more than tripled in number. One dared to step closer.

"You," he said, pointing at Bauer. "You're the one preaching hate and violence against my people. The harbinger of the end."

Bauer laughed. "It's the doomsayer. Get a load of this."

Mercifully, the soldier's HUD shifted as a communications channel opened. "POIs spotted," Command said. "Move into position." The soldier took a moment to chart a path on his map of Omega Central. He took off as Bauer and the doomsayer engaged in a fiery debate.

The merc companies _were_ a pillar of the Terminus Systems. Bauer had her following—even her soldiers—fooled, but she didn't lie about that. The support of the Hegemony, invisible and deniable but ever-present, was a pillar, too. Scipio hadn't targeted civilians yet, not directly. But tearing down those pillars meant bringing down whatever they supported. Too many people lived beneath that ceiling.

Close to the map marker, three of Shepard's squad disappeared into a side entrance to Afterlife. _And now they're involved._

 

Aria T'Loak's hospitality offered more comforts than a Tanbir slave pen, but the same could've been said of a Tanbir fighting pit. Compared to Veshan's cell, the arena floor had more space.

His captors blindfolded him the whole shuttle ride and the long walk to the private prison, but the faint inertia of an elevator going down was unmistakable. They'd taken him to the bowels of Galvek. But he wasn't too deep, unless that dull rhythmic panging—the leftovers of club music—was impossibly loud.

The cell allowed a few meters for pacing. As Aria's interrogator mirrored Veshan on the other side of the barrier, his thoughts turned from his release to that datapad. Each piece of its evidence led to conclusion after conclusion.

_Eclipse didn't bomb the ship. The bomb was there all along._

Once he took care of Bauer and her ilk, he'd go to Khar'shan to share it. That meant getting freed from this prison, but that was inevitable. Aria wanted his information, the interrogator made that clear. So Veshan named his release as his price. From his position, even "queens" had to yield to that demand.

"You will be released _after_ you give us what we want," the interrogator, a batarian with a busted nose, said.

"Before, or you get nothing."

The interrogator chortled. "You realize I'm playing nice? I could have guards drag you to my room, and in five minutes you'd be begging to tell us."

"When did you last see Khar'shan?"

"I'm asking the questions—"

Veshan put on his officer's voice. "When."

The interrogator hissed with a nasty snarl. "I was born in the Nemean Abyss."

"So you have no idea how prisoners are questioned on the homeworld." Veshan chuckled. "Five minutes? Give a Tanbir police officer two. _Before_. That's all I want."

The interrogator's mouth opened, but no sound came out but a strained rattle. Blood trickled, then flowed from a gash in his throat. A glowing orange point appeared in the wound. Behind the interrogator, a faceless soldier emerged from the empty air.

He ripped the omni-blade out. The interrogator crumpled.

"Captain Veshan," he said, stepping over to the console beside the cell barrier. "I'm getting you out of here."

"To die?"

The intruder shrugged. "Still out of here."

"Where are the guards?"

"What do you think?"

_Why did they put me in my own section of the prison?_ If there'd been other inmates… The barrier's strength wavered. Veshan dropped into a fighting stance. No weapons save for his hands, feet, and forehead. His teeth, too, but that was a taboo he didn't dare break even away from Harsa's Nest.

The barrier faded. The cell opened at the same time a door on the other end of the corridor slammed. The Eclipse turned right. His arm rose to aim his pistol. A biotic field smashed into him, throwing him to the ground. Moments later, he fell still.

A turian guard approached the corpse and knelt, putting a talon on its armor. With a grumble he glanced over his shoulder. "You were supposed to restrain him, not kill him."

"I did," an asari said.

The turian pulled off the intruder's helmet. "Suicide. Looks like he took poison."

"Didn't know they did that." The asari tapped her earpiece. "Hey, Anto. We had a problem in one of the cell blocks. The boss might want to know."

 

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly—a matter of perspective—Afterlife was near bursting with club-goers and dancers, and the thrumming, bass-heavy soundtrack consumed almost every other sound. _"I've been there once before,"_ Sensat, his squad-mate from the Archangel days, said. _"It's big, swallows you up in a way. Like a dalatrass's great hall back on Sur'kesh."_ Before Shepard crossed that bridge, those words were all Garrus had to go on. Archangel dared not show himself, even incognito.

_The fortress is under siege,_ he thought, _but nobody cares._ They couldn't care, because caring about Lieutenant Bauer meant she was important.

As he, Tali, and Jack made their way through the frenzy on the dance floor, he kept his gaze focused on the overlooking platform towards the rear of the club. _Almost like the CIC of a turian ship, where the commander stood._ And the pillar of light outside, Erash once told him, was a thing the Khar'shan aristocrats did. Meanwhile, the krogan Patriarch, Aria's living trophy of an ancient conquest, entertained a circle of admirers in a private corner.

They reached the throne of Omega, a wide leather couch. "Fun party?" Garrus asked.

"You just missed the best part," Aria T'Loak said, her eyes scanning the three newcomers. "Hm. Shepard isn't with you."

"He's busy. And I meant the party outside."

"Apparently the doomsayer's livening it up. The Eclipse lieutenant thinks she has me cornered, but bigger rats than her have tried to get rid of me." She waved a hand in the Patriarch's direction. "Now what do you want?"

"A chat with your prisoner. Pretty sure you know the one."

She chuckled. "He's popular these days."

"The batarian has information we're interested in."

"I'm interested, too. But he hasn't spoken a single useful word since my people found him."

"He wants something."

"Safety. He hasn't said it, but it's obvious. One little accident and he wants to go back home. I'd gladly put him on a transport after he tells me what he knows, but he insists on switching the order." Aria shrugged. "He'll figure out how things work eventually. Until then, his cell is safe enough."

Down the steps from the platform, Anto held his hand to his ear and muttered something.

"Have anything on him?" Garrus asked.

"Caste-wise, he's nobody important. Standard weapons and armor for batarian military."

"A guard for the ambassador."

Aria raised a brow, the corner of her lip curling up. "Ambassador?"

_She's kept the details quiet,_ Garrus realized. He didn't mean to let that card slip, but maybe it piqued Aria's interest enough for her to take them seriously on this. "We keep up-to-date on the news."

"I'd like to know what extranet feed you've been following. _And_ why you're so interested."

_Because right now we have two leads that could lead us to Scipio, and one of them isn't Samuel Yin._ "I might not go by 'Archangel' anymore, but I still care about Omega's people."

"And these two?" Aria looked at Tali and Jack. "They weren't part of your little crusade."

With a dour look Anto walked up to his boss, glancing at her guests. "There's a problem."

Her amused expression went flat. "Out with it."

"There was an intruder in the cells. Eclipse. He tried getting to the ambassador's guard, but our people took him down."

Then her flat expression went sour. "Alive or dead?"

"Alive, at first. He killed himself."

"Sounds familiar," Jack said. "Let me guess: pill in a cavity?"

Anto scowled at her. "Do you know something?"

"You're sure this intruder was Eclipse?" Garrus asked.

"He wasn't wearing the armor, but we ID'd him."

_Elias Grant,_ Garrus remembered. If Scipio had a man in the Blue Suns, what stopped them from planting infiltrators in other companies, too? Was Bauer among them, or was she an unknowing scapegoat?

Aria gave Garrus's party a cautious look, then glanced aside at Anto. "Bring our guest here."

As Anto bowed his head and left, Jack smirked. "Not so safe anymore?"

When the bodyguard returned two minutes later, he shoved another batarian up the stairs to the platform. Cast in reddish purple under the club's light, the survivor surveyed everyone present one by one with wary eyes, his stance guarded but dignified. His gaze settled on Jack, and he tilted his head right.

"You got a problem?" she asked.

"A human." The batarian spat the word. "I haven't been out of Kite's Nest more than a few days, and your kind has already messed everything up for me."

"Guard-Captain Enik Veshan," Anto said. "Former Harsa Aegis, the Hegemony's home guard. Former head of Ambassador Jul Meh'kena's security detail."

Garrus looked at Veshan. "You said humans messed everything up. How and why?"

"No. You'll get nothing from me until I'm freed."

"You wouldn't make it a few steps outside Afterlife," Aria said. "Eclipse wants you, either dead or captured. And even if they didn't, you have information I want."

"You'll. Get. Nothing."

Aria stood and approached him. "Think of it this way. I'm protecting you from the people outside, and all I'm asking for in return is a polite conversation."

" _Protecting_ me? Don't dress it up."

"Doesn't the term your people use for my station mean 'lonely refuge?'"

"This is no refuge."

"Compared to what? The welcoming arms of Eclipse Company? Even if I sent you back home, I doubt your superiors would like to hear how you failed your duty, Guard-Captain."

"You think Khar'shan is what I want? Not until the ambassador's murderers face justice."

_Now's as good a time as I'll get._ "Then don't look at Eclipse," Garrus said, playing his best card.

Aria's gaze snapped towards him. "Oh?"

"What if we told you that…" He had to consider carefully. "Eclipse and the batarians were being played? That there's a third party involved?"

Aria, eyes narrowed, took a step back from her captive. "Talk."

"Someone wants to split the alliance between the Teminus Systems' mercs and the batarians. They had the ambassador assassinated in the middle of talks."

"Where'd you learn this?"

"A base of theirs we raided. They were right under your nose, in the Gozu District. We learned more, though, and we'll share it with you in exchange for your prisoner."

"Someone who calls it like it is," Veshan said.

"You arrived on a little freighter," Aria said, "not Shepard's warship."

Garrus nodded. "You kept Veshan locked up, but someone almost got to him anyways. Look at it this way: you don't have to deal with him anymore, and we both get the information. Everyone wins. In fact, with our information, you'll probably get more out of this than we will."

Aria turned around, taking deliberate steps toward the front of her platform. Her gaze seemed fixed on Afterlife's central column, its vivid, energetic projections—or maybe what was past it, past the door: the crowd outside, and the incendiary leader at its core.

She had to see that the assassins' involvement filled the gaps in the news stories. That they presented a threat, if not to her directly, to the people she ruled. As the seconds in silence added up, Garrus found his impatience rising. Did he have to tell her more? That would make him look desperate when he wanted to look like the solution.

"Well?" Jack asked. "We have a deal or not?"

"Anto," Aria said, voice level. "Get the gambler out of his cell. Put him in the Guard-Captain's armor, and find a spare suit in the same size. Veshan, you'll follow Anto and take the suit he gives you. You won't want anyone recognizing you when you leave my club."

Veshan looked at Garrus and his team. "I have no choice, do I? Fine. The ship with the human it is."

Anto grabbed him by the shoulder and escorted him out of sight.

"I'm putting a lot of faith in your words, Archangel," Aria said.

"I appreciate it."

"Spare me. You'll get your batarian, but if I don't get every word he says… well, the one rule of Omega, hm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afterlife: I take a lot of liberties with settings, as you can see. Afterlife wasn't located in the middle of a square in-game, but why not put things on a grander scale when budgets aren't a constraint?


	11. Chapter 11

Even from Kasumi's high vantage from one of the Valdarines, Bauer and her gang weren't small enough to be ants. Aria probably would've preferred a problem she could fix with her boot, but Omega Central didn't have the vertical space to give her that view.

The years spent honing her craft taught Kasumi that every cityscape had its character. In New York City, rivers divided the blinding splendor of Manhattan from its less impressive sisters. The Citadel's wards were six distinct cities of their own: Tayseri with its asari-style spires, Zakera with its abundance of color. Omega was a mess, but a uniform mess. The station was made of gargantuan steel stalactites built into the eezo-rich asteroid. The urban or commercial or industrial clusters cropped up around them, with starship and skycar traffic weaving in-between. Omega Central was stumpy compared to other districts, with no building save one more than ten stories high.

The batarian "prophet" turned away from Bauer, throwing his arms up. Traces of his proclamation included "end times" and "blight." _Nothing new there._ Louder was the collective gasp and cheer of the crowd when an Eclipse soldier wound his arm up and clocked the prophet in the back of the head. The prophet fell, but the soldier, plus one more who joined in with a kick, didn't stop.

Bauer said something along the lines of "serves him right."

"Garrus to Kasumi. We have the survivor. Get us a route through this mess."

"On it."

_Showtime._ The mob below her swelled and shrank, a breathing, massive creature seething with rage. Kasumi looked elsewhere from her vantage point. To get from Afterlife to their skycar, Garrus's group needed to skirt the fringes of the brewing storm: alleys too narrow for any real gathering, guarded territories of small-time crime bosses. As she found each piece, she traced the path on a holographic map.

"It's done," she said a minute later, then sent the route. "Just be ready to change course on a dime."

No response. And the map failed to send. "Garrus?" But the channel was dead, and the blue dots on the radar were gone. She turned around, climbed up to the roof's upper tier, and jumped the narrow gap to the next building. Garrus's group emerged from the entrance to the VIP section, a hair's width away from a portion of the crowd. A helmeted figure in a gray hardsuit accompanied them. Kasumi started her way towards them when a human man, too collected to be part of the mob, opened an omni-tool. _Someone's noticed them. Could be making a call._

Then, in an adjoining alley, a flash of yellow: a human Eclipse soldier started climbing a ladder. A large rifle rested on his back. Kasumi scuttled as close as she could from her position and zoomed in on her visor. The gun was an M-98 Widow, a sniper rifle with enough recoil to shatter a normal human's arms.

She looked at the soldier, then at Garrus's group. _It won't matter if they have a map or not, or if I warn them._ She glanced along the buildings, mapping out a route from one side of the street to the other. Then she started the chase.

 

"It's done," Kasumi said, "Just be ready to—"

Static.

Tali checked her omni-tool. "Our communications are being jammed. It's not a blanket jammer. Someone's targeting our channel specifically."

"They know we're here," Jack said.

"They could be tracking us." Garrus gestured to the crowd. "We'll try to lose them."

"How long, Omega?" The Eclipse lieutenant's voice came from everywhere, stunning the crowd into silence. Heads looked up and around.

_They really set up for this,_ Garrus thought, but was "they" Eclipse or Scipio?

"How long do I have to wait for Aria to release this one batarian? Is she simply being petty, refusing me out of spite, or is this something bigger? How long have these attacks been happening? How long has she done nothing about them? This is her territory. The 'Queen of Omega' should show more concern.

"And if they don't concern her, why not?"

The mob burst out again. "She's a puppet," "They're paying her off," "Batarian stooge."

Veshan growled. "Aria should put a sniper somewhere. A good slug from a good rifle will shut her up."

"It will," Garrus said, "if she wants people to think there's something to what the LT's saying."

"If she's the Queen of Omega, she shouldn't care. The High Sovereign wouldn't wipe his ass with what the masses think."

_Some disdain there,_ Garrus noted.

"Things are little different outside home," Tali said. "Trust me, I've had to learn that myself."

Jack waved a dismissive hand at the mob. "Doesn't matter anyways. Look at these people. Aria's screwed no matter what she does."

The LT was already spinning Aria's cold shoulder to her favor. If Aria sent out her people to talk things out, the LT would run circles around them. Guns would send her screaming about oppression, and Aria going herself would make too much of a scene. _Jack's right_. This demonstration was going to cost Aria. The question was: how would she recoup her losses?

Bauer went on. "Take this idiot. Why would Aria tolerate him raving on her doorstep when all it took was a good beating to put him on his knees? One of her batarian guards could've done that any time."

"They're actually eating this bullshit," Jack said.

"They're scared and angry." Some technophobe doomsayers cropped up in the Wards after the geth attack, urging people to discard the "metal maw of modernity." Without any real purpose, however, their newfound followings lasted evaporated in short order. The LT, meanwhile, wielded this mob like a gun. A specific goal, and a specific target.

"Scared and angry or not," Tali said, "let's not underestimate Aria. She's been here for a long time."

"I don't think this LT cares if she can get to her," Garrus said.

They came to the fringe of Afterlife Square. One figure stood on a high platform, waving her arms as she addressed her public, and another knelt beside her. As the group weaved through the crowd they got closer. The kneeler was batarian, battered and bleeding, barely conscious. Behind them rose Afterlife, with a dozen faceless guards baring rifles.

"This is dangerous," Veshan said. The mass of bodies pushed and shoved around them like a tide. "We have to go through here?"

"We don't have much choice," Garrus said, checking the map.

"Gah." Veshan shoved past a large krogan. "All the more reason we hurry."

The doors to Afterlife opened. Anto's armor was recognizable among the small group that emerged, as was Veshan's old guard suit. Two of Aria's thugs dragged the prisoner by the arms.

The LT spun around. "Look what we have here."

Aria's people approached the platform and shoved the prisoner forward. Veshan grumbled with distaste.

Bauer ripped off the prisoner's helmet… and laughed. "Now she's insulting my intelligence. Who's this, some loser who crossed you? I know what the batarian I want looks like. He attacked me. In my own home!"

_Did he?_ Asking Veshan here was dangerous. _He did say he wants justice—or revenge—on the people who killed the ambassador._

That gave Garrus pause. Scipio's report described it as an assassination, while Eclipse painted the incident as an attack on them. Veshan was the only person who could say otherwise. _His word against Bauer's? People will take hers any day._ Even so, she made him the reason for her demonstration. For show? No, otherwise she would've been content with the decoy.

Bauer wanted Veshan specifically, so he'd share his side of the story with nobody. The Eclipse company Archangel fought wasn't so exacting. Scipio, however… _The infiltrator at the prison. If he succeeded, Veshan was dead. If not, it was pressure for Aria to move him—_

Light, red and orange, sprung from the corner of Garrus's sight. As he looked towards it, the roar hit his ears.

_Out in the open._

Smoke and fire poured from a distant rooftop. Debris fell on the streets below. Gasps and screams came from the crowd. Their seething anger melted away—not into a blind charge at Afterlife, but a panicked flight away, towards anywhere else. Garrus ran to match pace. Four dots remained nearby on his visor. "Go!"

They cleared Afterlife Square, still in the thick of everyone and everything. The fear of the crowd pressed in, making forward the only possible direction. _I need a route,_ Garrus thought, forcing his mind into a soldier's calm. A map fell across his visor. A large red dot matched the explosion he'd seen.

Light and thunder and heat burst again, closer this time. Behind him, as quickly as he dared to look, one of the Valdarines fell apart in flames over Afterlife Square.

"Kasumi," Garrus said. It was futile, but he had to try. "Kasumi!"

 

A blast engulfed part of Afterlife Square, scattering metal and fire. Several streets away, Kasumi dashed through a wall of smoke and leaped to the next rooftop. If the Eclipse with the Widow could cloak, he would've done so by now. The tech wasn't on his armor. She'd tailed him with little effort, but the building between them had to explode. Somewhere in this fiery mess there still had to be a sign of him.

_A sniper's perch. That's what he's looking for._ The Tohsu Heights, the tallest building in Omega Central, stood not too far away. _If it's not about to blow up._

Kasumi made another jump. Below her were screams, a flood of people running through a street meant for a mere steam. Garrus and the others were somewhere in the middle of a pandemonium like this. They'd have to improvise their way. Rubble and fire probably dumped themselves all over the route she'd sent—if it even went through before the jamming.

They'd been through worse. And she tracked down the "Eclipse soldier" once before.

A jump and a landing. Another jump and another landing.

But when she found him… She'd sabotage his gun. Then she just had to dance with him until the batarian reached safety. _Should be easy enough. I can cloak, and he can't. Just don't think that too much. Or else it'll turn out that he_ does _have a cloak._

Just before she made another leap, the building in front of her trembled. A fireball erupted from the roof. She caught herself, flung herself right. Rubble peppered where she stepped. A huge chunk of metal hurdled towards her. She lunged and rolled. It crashed right behind her. The impact shook her balance.

She stood. The street below was half-buried in a blanket of metal and smoke. Before she started looking for bodies, she pressed on. _I really, really hope your Scipio guys aren't behind this, Shep._ But the fact that Scipio seemed to be continuing their assassination attempt was telling.

The escape should be even easier. He couldn't ever follow her. But getting away depended on breaking that jamming, and her programs were still working on that. Well, Shepard was good at what he did.

_This might be the first time I ever hope he isn't too good. Hopefully the only time._

One last building separated her from the tower. She made the first of two jumps. There was a balcony halfway up its height… and a yellow-armored figure on it, going inside. She dashed across the roof. Her feet reached the edge.

A tremor and a rumble beneath her feet. A plume of smoke shot up from the street level. The quake repeated, louder and stronger. Her view started to shift… She stepped back. Ran for it. Leaped. An explosion tore through the roof she left behind. The shockwave slammed into her back.

The balcony loomed closer. She reached for it…

Her hand smacked just below the railing. It slipped. Kasumi fell.

A small ledge along the building wall rushed towards her. She shifted, reached, and this time she grabbed on. The black mesh of her glove was visible. _The explosion._ The nodes on her suit must've been damaged. They were easily replaced, but she'd be in plain sight of the Eclipse.

Her arms protested every effort, but she pulled herself up and up, ledge to ledge. Tohsu wasn't a skyscraper, but there was still a ways to the top.

From the roof, however, a small thing peeked out: metal clutched in two gauntleted arms, out of range of her programs.

On her visor, the word "success" might have been a huge sign, the crackle of static a scream. "He's taking the shot!"

 

Minutes ago, Omega was a hell of vice and brutality, of excess and poverty. Now the soldier dashed through ruined streets and side alleys, leaping over charred metal and charred bodies. He'd heard his comrades' dying screams on the comm channel, but how many more died when the Valdarine collapsed?

He still had his assignment, but now it was a bit more personal. The persons of interest were still alive, he knew, but _where?_ They vanished as the mob broke after the first explosion. His trackers on the roofs went silent with the second.

They had arrived on a skycar on this street. Beneath a collapsed wall were hints of broken windows and a crushed frame. _Did they pass by already? Are they close?_ He looked around. There was no sign, only pandemonium as people rushed about. Some even tried taking shelter in gaps between rubble.

"What's going on?" "Help me!" Those cries were all around him as he broke into a sprint. They seemed to follow him everywhere.

At the tenth street he checked, a small sob sounded from another skycar's wreckage. A huge metal panel, black at the edges, had flattened its roof and crushed the windows into slits before sliding off and blocking the doors. Still no sign of the marks, but he grasped the corner of the debris and pushed. Three heaves brought it clattering to the ground. His omni-blade cut through the battered door. A salarian lay flat inside. The soldier reached out his hand.

"Thank you." The salarian's voice trembled. "Thank you. Thank you."

 He'd helped the salarian out when the POIs came running through the alley. They froze, but not at the sight of him.

Blue light shot up from the ground. It warped into a barrier, stronger than the soldier thought possible in the split-second taken to raise it. If the biotic had more than a split-second, maybe the slug wouldn't have cut through the veil like paper. The batarian grunted, clutching the side of his chest. His knees buckled, but he caught himself on one hand as he fell forward.

The soldier backed away, ducking behind the wrecked skycar.

Garrus knelt beside the batarian in an instant, helping him into a sitting position with his back against a wall. Tali and the biotic took up positions towards both ends of the alley as Garrus applied medigel to the batarian's wound.

The soldier zoomed in with his HUD and opened the medical analysis tool. That the batarian hadn't died instantly was telling enough, but the entry wound was several inches below and left of the target area. Medigel stemmed the blood loss, and the tool said the batarian's hardsuit was loaded with a heavy-duty medical exo.

So when Garrus entered something into his omni-tool, and the batarian's vitals went dark seconds later, the soldier made the connection. "Dammit," Garrus said, lying. "It's no good. He's gone."

The soldier inched away. When he was free he started a message: _Target eliminated._


	12. Chapter 12

Veshan spent an eternity staring up at dull gray. Several faces, sometimes blurred and sometimes clear, pushed against the sides of his sight. When they spoke, not to him, he could make out the words if they were loud enough and if he wanted to. Most of the time he didn't. The gray ceiling wasn't the mosaic watching over Meh'kena's office. It wasn't the blast that consumed _Ujon's Reach_ , and it wasn't the murky brown of the human's rat hole. It also wasn't the pitch-black of the Galve'shar, that chasm dooming the wicked dead to an unending fall. Just gray.

The human doctor appeared, looking down at him. His mouth moved. "… bad hit, a really bad hit, but it looks like you should make a full recovery. Just take it easy for a few days." The other aliens, those that led him through the streets, joined his side.

Veshan grumbled. "How bad?"

"Well, the slug got itself pretty deep into your abdomen. You lost a lot of blood, but thankfully it missed your major organs."

"It would've been a lot worse," the turian said, glancing at the hairless woman, "without her barrier. The assassin is… really good at landing headshots."

He remembered explosion after explosion, frantic fleeing through a broken and terrified mob. A wall of light burst from the ground before the world went red and painful. _To deflect the shot by that much…_ That human seemed the least trustworthy of the bunch. Veshan went over the turian's words again. "You know this assassin."

"Yes, but we shouldn't share the details here. Sorry, Daniel."

The doctor had busied himself on one of the computers. "It's not a problem. I'm not sure I want to know anyways."

"Good instincts."

Veshan sighed. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days," the doctor said. "It's not just the shot. It's clear you've been under a lot of stress lately."

"You can tell?"

"I've studied batarian physiology. I have to, if I want to practice on Omega."

 _Another human I owe my life to._ "'A lot.' Hmph. Never thought _I'd_ be an assassination target. I'm just a guard."

"A guard who knows enough to make people uncomfortable," the turian said.

For the first time Veshan sat up, slowly. The walls and floor were the same cool slate color as the ceiling, bathed in sterile white lighting. Others wore the same outfit as the doctor, Daniel, working on medical equipment or wheeling bedridden patients. Between the beeps and chirps of the former and the scraping and bumping of the latter, there were screams and sobs and level voices trying to soothe them. _This place is bursting_ , Veshan realized. _Of course it is._ If he had recovered…

"Can I get up and walk?" he asked. "Can I… change?"

Daniel nodded.

"There's a new hardsuit in there," the quarian said, gesturing to a large box by Veshan's bed. "We still need to keep you anonymous between here and our ship." With that she and her friends shuffled out, as did the doctor.

The new armor looked much the same as the old one, but it had the color of dark rust, like the rest of this station. The feeling of the under-armor weave and the weight of ceramic plates was a nice change from the light green gown they'd put him in, but still he found himself rubbing where the wound was. He took a tentative step forward. His balance felt a bit off.

He made it to the waiting room regardless. The quarian seemed busy at the front desk, while the other two aliens were off in a corner. Something about communication channels, the human said.

"All right," the turian said. "That one's on me, I should've known."

Veshan approached. "I remember our deal." _The deal that was made for me._

The turian nodded. "Once we get you to our ship, you can tell us everything. Garrus, by the way. Garrus Vakarian. This is Jack, and the quarian's name is Tali. You'll meet the rest of us soon enough."

Part of him reminded him that turians sat on the Citadel Council, the very council that drove the batarians into exile when they sided with the humans. The human beside him seemed to embody the monster the Hegemony liked to paint: crude, barely civilized.

 _They might be the only choice._ The barrier the human raised made it more than a question of just choice, however.

"There's one more thing. I left some information in the Zelcoras apartment building. Unit 512. A datapad, concealed in a book in a desk drawer. It belongs to the enemy, and it's important."

"All right," the turian said. "I'll have one of our friends pick it up."

 

Though a large elevator took pedestrians between Gozu District and Omega Central, an even larger crowd teemed outside it, threatening to swallow the three guards backed up against the gray metal door. Cloaked, Kasumi slipped through what gaps she could find. She stopped when a guard's voice came into earshot.

"The Royal Terrace apartment building was targeted in the attack. The bridge to Omega Central is blocked with rubble. Nobody's using this elevator." The speaker was a turian, with a human and a krogan on her flanks. Smart of Aria, Kasumi noted. Her batarians probably weren't the best peacekeepers right now.

The crowd hurled a frenzy of questions. Loved ones might have been caught in the blasts. Homes and businesses might have fared no better than Royal Terrace. The crowd pressed closer, step by step. Then the guards took their rifles off their backs. "Enough," the turian said. "Five steps back, all of you."

Silence. Those closest to them complied. A small bubble of space, too tight to be considered "personal," had been saved.

That girl and her mother lived in one of those apartments, Kasumi remembered, before Samara's daughter happened. She felt a frown touch her face. _Hope Mom wasn't home when the bomb went off._

The turian looked left, right, and center. "Good. I understand all of you have questions. We'll have answers once we get everything sorted out."

There'd been a lot of explosions up top. That meant even more sorting. Kasumi left the crowd behind, pondering a nearby skycar lot. If she dared take one directly to Omega Central, Aria's people would try capturing her. And that would lead to a lot of unnecessary running or talking, depending on if they succeeded or not. Adjacent to Omega Central, however, was Rektrost District. Guards on high alert were a much more surmountable obstacle when she didn't announce herself with a drive core's roar and bright head lights.

A ride and a jaunt later, she knew she reached her first destination when the next roof was charred, broken metal. Afterlife Square had turned into Afterlife and a lot of rubble. The fires were taken care of and the bodies were cleaned out, but on three sides the burnt-out husks remained. On the fourth, Aria's throne suffered a shredded facade. All of its colors had gone out, as well as almost all its lights—save the big one. _Alive but damaged. Not so invincible-looking anymore. What does that mean for her enemies?_ Meanwhile a small hill of debris had formed in the center of the square. Worker mechs labored around it, carrying bits and pieces large and small. Kasumi made her way down.

One of two supervising asari signed a mnemonic. What used to be part of the Valdarine signs rose into the air and broke apart in a flash. The mechs hauled the fragments away. Kasumi crept behind a streetlight's stump as the asari grumbled.

"I can't believe it," she said. "Fifty years of commando service, fifty years doing security for Aria. Now I'm playing demolition."

Her companion shrugged. "Exactly. This happened on your watch."

"One good thing is how the explosions caught both the loudmouth Eclipse and the doomsayer she was arguing with."

"Always a bright side."

Kasumi moved on. The further she got from the square, the more enforcers she saw herding scores of survivors into shuttles. The mechs grew less frequent, and the messes larger. The worst sight was a helmeted enforcer dragging a child away from what was left of Royal Terrace. "Daddy," she wailed, arms outstretched towards the blackened metal chunks.

Royal Terrace had been obliterated, but maybe… Kasumi paused, then shook her head. Garrus and the others were waiting.

Ten minutes later she arrived at a relatively unscathed part of the district. Only a handful of Aria's people roamed the streets, but otherwise there was no movement here. Veshan's building was still intact. She looked for a side entrance, found it, and cracked it. _Fifth floor, unit 512._

Getting inside that apartment was simple enough, but inside the bedsheets lay in a big tangle on the floor. Bearing the tender affections of a carving knife, the mattress had been shoved halfway of the frame. The closet was open, its contents scattered everywhere. And the desk's drawers were all part open, and all empty.

She checked the closet, the bed, everything on the floor: no book, and no datapad.

 

"The ship blew up. I was trapped under debris. Then they shot Meh'kena through the head." With every word the batarian glanced at another face.

"And how did you escape?" Miranda asked.

"Played dead, then got out before they came back. I followed the lieutenant—the one talking her head off at the square—to an apartment. There was a datapad there. It contained messages, maps, authorization codes."

"For what?"

"Messages to and from the Hegemony's Lord of Defense, the one who _sent_ Ambassador Meh'kena on this mission. Maps of Great Tanbir, the Hegemony's capital. Authorization codes to get to and around there." Veshan frowned. "It has everything a few human infiltrators need to get onto Khar'shan unnoticed."

"With an obvious purpose." With an assassination of a diplomat and an attempted assassination of this batarian around their belt, Scipio setting their sights at the top of the Hegemony seemed logical enough. "If enough top officials died, then this… lord… would be left to lead?" _A rather archaic title._

"There's a line of succession, but it's always changing. Impress the High Sovereign, you move up. Displease him, you move down. These humans would have to kill enough that the line wouldn't matter anymore."

"After today, that's certainly in their power to accomplish."

Kasumi appeared at the far end of the cargo hold. "Everyone making friends with our guest?"

 _This is business, not bonding._ "Did you learn something out there?" Miranda asked.

"I listened in on some guards outside Afterlife. The Eclipse lady died in the attack. Guess she wasn't expecting a building to blow up and fall on her."

Veshan made an approving sound. "Good riddance."

"But if she was part of Scipio like you said, then why let her die in their own attack?" Miranda asked. "Was their objective worth sacrificing her?"

"Maybe they're just stupid," Grunt said.

Kasumi shrugged at that. "Scipio's more careful than that. I'd say they incited the riot, but someone else did the bombs."

"Another party?" Miranda pursed her lips. There were too many factors in this mess already.

"Probably. As for the datapad… it was nowhere to be found."

The batarian's gaze dropped. "They must've gone through the place. Not Aria's—if they found it, they wouldn't have needed me. Either Scipio or these other people." He groaned. "I didn't have much time to hide it, but I should've hidden it better."

 _So now we only have your word to go on._ "Why didn't you destroy the datapad?"

"Evidence," Garrus said.

Veshan nodded. "I wanted to take it to Khar'shan to warn someone, to get Lord Zora arrested. But Aria's people got to me first. I couldn't tell _them_ what I found. If a Lord of the Hegemony would betray my people, how much more for the mercenary scum here?"

That, Miranda thought, or Veshan needed to raise his value as a live prisoner. But his story was too sensible to be fiction. "If what you're saying is accurate, we can make a decent guess at Scipio's endgame: a new government on Khar'shan. Would you say this Zora's friendlier to humans than the current leadership?"

"I'm not from a political caste. It's not my business to know that."

A human-friendly Hegemony was a goal Cerberus supported, but never pursued. As attractive as the prospect was, the cost in time and resources was too great. For a moment she remember David Archer and Project Overlord. _Trying to tame dangerous forces always risks unleashing worse._

That thought gave her pause. When Shepard brought up the Cerberus projects in the Traverse, hadn't she argued for Project Machai's husk and rachni shock troops?

 _Enough of that._ "I see," she said. "Well, now that you've given us your story. What are your plans?"

Veshan put his hands behind his back. "Still the same. I want these Scipio people dead. And I want to watch Lord Zora fall."

"That a literal fall?" Kasumi asked.

"It's how we deal with top-caste traitors. They're thrown off the High Sovereign's Vantage. Tallest tower in Khar'shan."

"So you want to stay with us," Miranda said.

"I don't _want_ to. I _should._ Besides, I owe you people. Humans killed Meh'kena, but humans also saved my life." He paused, glancing at the rest of the squad. "And the rest of you aliens."

"Charming," Tali said.

"Bah. Don't ruin the moment."

 _A batarian ally._ In most other circumstances, Miranda would've remembered Balak and his band, the delinquents at Afterlife, the bartender who poisoned Shepard, the terrorists on Franklin. However, reversals seemed to be the norm right now.

"Very well," she said with a curt nod. "Welcome aboard. Garrus, contact Aria and share what we've learned. Crew dismissed."

Kasumi started off towards the bow. "Guess I'll play tour guide. Not much to see, though. Follow me."

As those and others left, Miranda's omni-tool pinged. She summoned her diplomatic side, put on a faint smile, and accepted the call. "Yin."

"Miss Lawson." The man wore an equally pleasant expression. "I'm pleased to report that my people have uncovered a new lead about your missing commander."

"Have they?"

"I'd love to tell you about it, but not on an unsecured channel."

"At your estate, then?"

"You read my mind. Come in any time, though I suggest we act before the intel turns stale."

"Then we'll talk soon. I look forward to it." She ended the call. _Let's hope our next deal is less one-sided than the last._

At the cockpit, Joker poured over numerous haptic windows overlaying the flight instruments. He made a good choice for monitoring the Yin Estate. Seeing him focused and busy was much better than seeing him defeated. "Joker, set course for Terra Nova." Miranda said. "Our friend there wants a word."

He swept the spy data to one side. "Speaking of him, I think I've found something."

"What is it?" _An edge over Yin, I hope._

"On top of some stuff on Scipio—known personnel, bases—a bunch of signals. Usually the transmissions out of the estate are traceable. Probably to more of Yin's guys. But some aren't. Those ones are barely noticeable, like they're supposed to be secret. When I first started looking at all this they didn't happen a lot, but now they're pretty much most of what's going in and out."

"When did they start increasing?"

"'Bout two days ago."

"After the bombings, then." _Was Yin behind them?_ His men did take nuclear weapons from Scipio's hideout, though those obviously weren't the ones that devastated Omega Center. "These transmissions… maybe they're meant to be hidden from Yin. Like he has spies in his ranks. And if they account for that much traffic, that can only mean those spies are about to do something. All the more reason we get to Terra Nova."

"On it."

 _Yin wants me there while the supposed spies start acting up. A coincidence? What does he know?_ It all seemed like some elaborate trap.

"Oh, one more thing," Joker said. "Looks like the nukes on the move."

 _Another piece to the puzzle. All right,_ she decided. _I'll take a look at what you have in store._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veshan: Batarian temporary squad member? Yes! (I'd consider him a straight-up Soldier proficient in Assault Rifles and Heavy Pistols. Maybe his "class" is Batarian Aegis.)


	13. Interlude

Shepard left the shimmering resorts of Illyria in the rear view, driving a rented skycar into a humbler part of Elysium's capital. The brief looks he gave them brought back memories of lavish parties at exclusive nightclubs and of leaving hotel rooms in the morning with red on his neck.

All because of the twin barrels in the distance ahead, pointing at the sky.

The AA gun was the only thing stemming the tide, and Shepard went through half a dozen sniper rifles defending it. He scoped out grenade and missile launchers and dropped the pirates holding them. He brought down other buildings to bottleneck the flow. And when the rare hostile made it to his vantage point on a rooftop, he dampened their biotics or their tech, sabotaged their shields, and landed a slug between their eyes.

"Nothing short of tactical genius, and maybe some luck," Whitwell said, a captain then, commanding one of the first frigates to break the pirate blockade. But Shepard had a _lot_ of luck on his side. The invaders' strength was in their massive infantry, not in any air superiority and not in any long-range artillery. A bomber or a rocket salvo would've dashed all of Elysium's hopes. Not that he said as much when Whitwell offered him a spot at the Villa, and the details didn't matter to the colony's grateful populace.

"Hero," they called a former gang member. Of course he spent his last couple shore leaves basking in Illyria's colorful nightlife.

Marco, he remembered. After the camera drone stopped recording, it was the opposite of professionalism to ask the interviewer out to drinks at the Grand Ronde. But it led to something nice over the next three years at MECEP and in Rio. Maybe they could get in touch while Shepard was here…

He stopped the skycar in front of the gates to Fort O'Connor. The servicemen at the front pointed him to Specialist Chan, for whom his arrival seemed the first exciting thing in weeks. In a cluttered office she listened to his request with a ghost of a smile and got to typing with fresh enthusiasm.

"MSV _Snake Fang_ , _Snake Fang_ … Its last arrival was about a month ago, and it left two days later."

Which could've meant that Solomon's information was wrong, or the ship made an unrecorded landing elsewhere. The memory of the assistant clutching the stab wound made Shepard hope for the second possibility. "Nothing matched its profile on long-range sensors?" Elysium had upgraded its defenses after the Blitz.

 _Spoken like a detective._ Maybe he was warming up to this assignment.

"Let's see… Yes. Three days ago we picked up a Kowloon making for the southern supercontinent."

"Did you investigate it?"

"We sent a team to locate it, but the region it could've landed in was about a hundred square kilometers of alien rain forest. We'd decided just to monitor the region for any activity, but we caught the ship leaving the day after."

 _Which puts me on a trail two days old._ Rhadamanthus's rainforests weren't just a tourist attraction or natural resource, though. Other, less savory parties had more than a few hands there.

"All right. That's all I needed. Keep up the good work."

"Thank you, sir. It was… really nice meeting you."

He dipped his head and left. Chan had a predecessor who died when the pirates broke the fort open. A Lieutenant Underwood was the only one to escape that mess, a stout man with a freckled, broken nose. While Shepard defended the AA tower, Underwood got civilians to safety. A batarian sniper added Underwood's name to the long list. A fraction of the viewership for the Star of Terra ceremony tuned in to watch the memorial's unveiling at the rebuilt fort.

Shepard walked by it on his way out, a silvery statue of a faceless Alliance soldier with that list of forgotten names at its base.

 

He had changed in his apartment, picking out the tailored black suit he almost never got to wear, so he blended in when he followed the hostess through the door and onto the Magnifique's floor. Golden lions danced on the crimson marble tiles, while diners, all in booths, conspired beneath crystal chandeliers.

The hostess stopped a smaller booth in the corner. Shepard thanked her and took his seat.

From plain government trappings to spartan military efficiency to the vulgar wealth of the criminal underworld. Maybe the Old Man crossed the New Brooklyn Bridge to secure new territories and end fights over existing ones over spaghetti in a place like this. Maybe he painted its stained chestnut walls red with a concealed gun. From those ideas came a memory of an old leather-bound book, its yellowed pages almost illegible. A thirteen-year-old in the Tenth Street Reds had stolen it from a dying old woman's collection and hidden it with his other treasures. Whenever he found the time that kid made another trip into another New York, two centuries gone.

The waiters' uniforms were a decent imitation of that era. They moved with a well-trained poise, carrying trays of wine and martini glasses and small happy hour platters. As a waiter disappeared through a doorway, another figure emerged. Clean-shaven and seemingly carved from bronze, the elderly man laid his eyes on Shepard and approached. His hands only swayed by his sides, never reaching into his coat or pocket. Shepard watched him the whole way.

"Clara at the front door told me we had a very unusual guest," the man said, smiling wide. "The hero himself, in the heart of Agron District." He gestured to the bench across from Shepard. "May I?"

"I wanted to speak with you anyways."

A waiter passed. The elderly man caught him by the arm. "Two glasses of the Chateau Celene," he said, then let go. The waiter, accustomed to this, nodded and continued on without a word. The elderly man pressed his fingertips together. "You do enjoy good wine, right?"

"Of course," Shepard lied.

"Good, good." He extended a wrinkled hand. His other arm made no movement. "I'm Jefferson, I own this establishment."

"A pleasure. I'm here looking for information."

"Ask away." There was a hunger in Jefferson's eyes. No doubt he was already calculating his price.

 _Careful._ "If I wanted to get something onto Elysium that the authorities might not like, I'd have two options. One, hide it with more presentable goods. It's safer, but limited. Two, send it where it won't have to pass any inspections."

"Are you looking to transport something, Lieutenant?"

"I'm looking for a transport." No reaction. "Do the rainforests in Rhadamanthus mean anything to you?"

"They're quite lovely. Have you visited? I heard they put anything on Earth to shame. No centuries of environmental degradation, I suppose."

"I haven't been there. Have you? Your employees?"

Jefferson shrugged. "They vacation where they will. I don't make that my business. But…"

The waiter returned with two large glasses of deep red. The old man's eyes brightened at the sight of them, and he took one and sipped with enthusiasm. Shepard mirrored him, but the wine merely grazed his lips.

"Ah," Jefferson said. "As I was saying, my employees may vacation in exotic Rhadamanthus. They may also work there, if the job requires such travel. Elysium is, for all intents and purposes, a new world. I ought to stake my claim while I can. Any good businessman would."

"A claim like a secret landing pad. Or a dozen."

"My employees need some place to set their transports down."

"Your employees and your clients."

Jefferson gave a throaty chuckle. "My clients are the people of Elysium. I keep their everyday lives running smoothly through my good work."

"And where does the _Snake Fang_ fit into that?"

Jefferson quirked an eyebrow, sipping more wine. "That's what you're looking for? Only that?"

"Just that."

"The Hero of Elysium wants to know about a simple freighter. What for? A lone mercantile vessel can't be a threat like the scum you faced in the Blitz. I'm a patriot. I wouldn't help anyone who would mean harm to humanity."

"Then help someone who protects it. Why did the _Snake Fang_ come to Elysium, and where did it go when it left?"

"If I just told you, that would be a rather one-sided deal."

"You haven't mentioned your price."

Jefferson made a show of deep pondering, putting his chin in a palm and letting a "Hmmm" out. "I want… a favor. Anything I might need of someone like you."

"Anything?"

"Don't worry, I won't ask you to do anything that will get you in trouble. And perhaps I'll end up not needing anything at all." He gave that sickly sweet smile. "Given the risk I'm taking in considering this transaction, I think that's more than fair."

If he said "yes," he'd move a step closer to finding the _Snake Fang._ Unless Jefferson was lying. He'd gone from cageyness to certainty as soon as Shepard told him what he wanted.

He said "yes" before, after Miss Lawrence's house burned down and a stray bullet took her through the chest. Two gangs had been fighting a small war, and that nighttime battle on the streets left Victor and the other orphans homeless. Get payback, he thought, thirteen years old. So he and Finch sought out the one gang that could stand up to the Fangs and the Devils.

 _"You want in,"_ the Old Man said, amused. The Tenth Street Reds were shadows looming behind him. _"That it?"_

Victor glanced at Finch. Finch looked back, uncertain. So Victor stared into the Old Man's pale eyes and spoke first.

"No," Lieutenant Shepard said. "No deal."

The friendliness drained out of Jefferson's face. Only a ghost of it remained as he picked up his glass and finished the expensive wine. "I see." After dabbing his lips with a napkin he stood. "Unfortunate, but understandable for someone in your position. I only hope you'll be able to find what you're looking for… elsewhere."

Shepard followed suit, his glass half-empty. "Enjoy your evening."

"And you yours." Jefferson turned on his heels and left the way he came.

Now eyes were on him around the restaurant. No doubt they had seen the way the big boss made his exit. _Better not give them any ideas_ , Shepard thought, and made for the front door.

 

Shepard replayed that conversation over and over on the drive to the Grissom Heights apartment building and the elevator ride to the fourteenth floor. Half an hour had passed by the time Shepard got to his door, but it felt like he just left that restaurant. There was no other response, he decided. A debt to organized crime was the last thing in the galaxy he wanted.

He entered his keycode and pressed his thumb to the scanner. "Yes" was his answer to the Old Man, but "no" was his answer at the New York harbor. From enlistment to the Blitz to N school, Shepard was meant to go forward, not backwards. Up, not down.

The door opened. He reached for a switch on the wall and hit it. His apartment was the same as he left it: furnished more simply than he would've liked these days, but the upgrades were a matter of time. More importantly, it provided a quiet space to plan his next move. He brushed dust off his couch while starting a slow pace around the living room.

 _"I'm a patriot. I wouldn't help anyone who would mean harm to humanity."_ Could Jefferson have been lying about that? No, smaller criminals might've accepted the quick and easy profit of aiding batarian terrorists, but Jefferson seemed to have the bigger picture in mind.

If not terrorists, then pirates? Someone intending on selling them? Whitwell wasn't wrong yet.

Motion from behind. Shepard lashed his arm back, caught something—an arm. He stood, whirled, threw a punch at the intruder's face. A crack and a cry. Shepard pulled his fist back, now blooded. As the intruder reeled, Shepard grabbed him by the shoulders and kneed him in the guts. The intruder fell to his knees, catching himself on one arm.

With his other hand he clutched his gut. "Damn. You've gotten vicious."

The urgency passing, the details of the intruder's bloody face came together into something Shepard recognized. Last he saw him, they were teenagers, shorter and scrawnier. "Weisman," Shepard said. "Curt."

"Still remember me? Thought you forgot all about us when they handed you that award."

"What are you doing here?"

Curt's gaze drifted down to Shepard's fists. "Can I stand up without you breaking something else?"

"Get up. Try anything and I'll break two."

"You've gotten really vicious." Curt picked himself up, hands spread out, then took a step back. "All right. Maybe it wasn't a smart idea to try getting the jump on you. The boss sent me to talk."

"The boss? Ortiz?" The first time a Red turned on the Old Man's successor, he had the traitor beaten bloody in front of everyone. He made him beg for mercy, and rewarded that plea with a shot in each kneecap. Where Shepard was concerned, talking would've been the last thing Ortiz wanted.

"He's dead."

That wasn't surprising. "Who, then? Someone new?"

"Someone old. But—uh, we don't call him the Old Man anymore. Just his name."

"How?" _Daelan Ares._ The age difference lost its importance since the old days.

"He got out and took back Tenth Street Reds from Ortiz. It wasn't a pretty fight, but Ortiz didn't stand a chance. Then he…" Curt shuddered. "He got the other Reds leaders to meet with him. Don't know how, but he did. He brought them to a warehouse, then locked them in and walked away as it blew up. The entire gang is his now."

The Old Man—Ares—made it clear that running a Reds set was a stepping stone to him. This takeover had to be another one. "And what does he want with me?"

"He heard you were snooping around."

 _Were the Reds responsible…_ "Did he?"

"The Reds aren't just a gang in the Big Apple anymore. We're going somewhere. And we have the contacts and the credits to do it." Curt smiled. "The _Snake Fang_? It's ours. Ares wants you to see it."

"Where?" Shepard asked.

"You'll see. You just have to follow me and stay quiet."

 _Contacts and credits._ Shepard found himself retracing his steps through the Magnifique and Fort O'Connor, through the customs office and the orbital station. So many people had seen him. What about Jefferson or Chan?

But on Doru Station, the gunshot tore through the hallway, and Solomon's chest spurted with blood. _"Follow the trail, Shepard,"_ McCoy said, before shooting himself in the head. His lines had a personal touch to them. Ares's involvement explained everything.

"Fine," he said. He already turned down one offer. The strings attached to this one, however, were harder to see.

Curt sighed with relief. "Good, Ares won't skin me alive. To the spaceport. I have a shuttle, courtesy of our big patron."

"Which we're using to go where?"

"Some batarian colony in the Terminus. Alesh-something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elysium: On one hand, I kinda wish there was more official stuff on the place, but at the same time I'm glad for the worldbuilding opportunity for a planet that's so key to Shepard's identity.
> 
> The Grand Tour: On the planet where Shepard made a name for himself, we go on a backwards tour through his history. First, the military stop at Fort O'Connor (not-so-subtle reference to the original Victor-verse). Then, organized crime at the Magnifique. Finally, the Tenth Street Reds, in the form of Curt Weisman. But the Hero permeates all of it, inextricably, for good and bad.
> 
> The Old Man has a name? Watsonian-ly, the guy seems to have leveled up since his arrest. Doyle-y, TIM and TOM. Yeah. Originally he was "Jefferson Ares" but it was too similar to a gay porn star's name whoops.


	14. Chapter 14

The first of many moments of truth: the soldier gave the gate a light nudge, and the vine-like metal parted. A step inside Yin Garden brought another moment: the YSS guard lay dead nearby, and the hidden pressure plate sounded no alarm.

Where Yin's fairy tale bastion was gleaming ivory in the day, the dead middle of the night transformed it into sprawling, warped shadow. Its windows were sealed behind thick steel panels, and only a handful of lights, some mounted on the estate walls and some lamps along the paths, provided any illumination. The soldier's map displayed plate locations, patrol routes, camera coverage, guard posts, and turret zones. Night concealed a good number of ways Yin might kill an intruder.

But Scipio had stolen from the Alliance and the salarians for months. The moles in the estate turned navigating the garden grounds into following a script—a nice change from the constant improvisation that got the soldier to this point. He sidestepped the plates and kept a healthy distance from everything else. The slow crawl took him to one of the Yin Estate's side doors.

If the moles did their job, the estate's own cameras didn't see the lock turn green or the metal panels part. The door control might have logged access from valid credentials, but the successful attempt came at the expected time. The actual owner of those credentials, however, lay dead by the gate.

Not all of Yin's thousand-strong army could've been in on his plans. A guard on mere garden patrol had to belong to the ignorant camp. Maybe all one-hundred of the YSS troops on the compound were.

Their ignorance was not bliss, not tonight. Suppressing a sigh, the soldier reached Squad Bravo's rendezvous point, a storage room on the basement level of the estate. Two Scipio agents and a YSS corpse wedged between two large containers awaited him.

He dropped his cloak. "No problems?"

"None, sir," Crafts said. The dead YSS trooper was part of the script.

"Let's keep it that way." Omega was bad enough even before the bombs went off.

Crafts and Warmack were seasoned ex-Alliance, two of the first agents the soldier got to know. _"It's not cutting off the head,"_ Warmack said once, at a base's mess hall.

Crafts nodded. _"It's breaking off the shackles. The Hegemony's a bit backwards, if you haven't noticed. Take it out, free the batarians, progress."_

A few dozen against a thousand years of history and culture. That struck the soldier as more than a little naive, but he didn't say as much, only murmured his assent. Even so, though the two of them were every bit his seniors in Scipio, they took his orders without question. That was why he picked them as his squad for this mission. That was why he thanked Scipio's leader for instilling such obedience in her people.

Then the estate went dark. The ceiling shuddered. Command never gave a single squad the complete plans, but the details were easy to fill in. Some soldiers wearing YSS uniforms stabbed their comrades in the back. Others got to work putting all the wrong commands into the security systems. Partition doors in the estate hallways slammed down. The window shields retracted, and glass shattered. And one by one, each attack squad got their signal to begin.

Bravo received theirs. Warmack took point, rifle out.

A staircase at the far end of the basement led them to the lavish first floor. A huge partition blocked off most of it, though the soldier doubted it kept many hostiles contained. One level up, corpses both armored and unarmored littered the more military-themed hallways. Most were YSS. Otherwise the floor was still, the doors locked.

A fire team cleared the path for Bravo, the soldier realized, but an operation that required a bloodbath like this was… unlike Scipio and its leader. Simply assassinating Yin wasn't enough of a crippling blow, it seemed.

 _Simply assassinating._ The soldier had spent too long immersed in this cloak-and-dagger world.

Warmack had started up the next flight of stairs when one of the doors in the hallway unlocked. The soldier whirled around, pistol aimed. Half a dozen YSS troops poured out. As they opened fire, he dived behind a pillar.

The marble crackled against his back, pebbles dusting the floor. He reached along his belt and grasped a neural shock grenade. When he peeked around the pillar, the hostiles had fanned out. Crafts and Warmack had taken one out, but four were closing in on them. The soldier hurled the grenade.

Red lightning exploded at the troops' feet. Three seized up with convulsions, dropping their weapons. The soldier took down two, Crafts and Warmack one each.

 _One left._ The half-heartbeat he'd taken to check his radar, that one burst out of cover and chucked something at Warmack. The soldier pointed his omni-tool, launched a program. When the hostile's shields sparked out, the soldier landed a headshot.

Crafts emerged from his cover. "Thanks for the save, sir."

Meanwhile Warmack had managed to avoid the grenade's explosion. The soldier nodded, then signaled to move on.

Between the partitions and less-skilled YSS techs behind the locked doors, no one else troubled them on the way to the objective on the third floor. Crafts and Warmack took one side of the large, gray door emblazoned with the YSS logo, the soldier the other. The soldier got it open, then flung a flashbang low along the floor. As it burst the three of them fired into the room. The three hostiles on radar disappeared in seconds.

Warmack went in first. "Clear," he said after a few seconds.

 _Too easy,_ the soldier thought. _Especially for their command center._ Even without Command's explicit warnings, the soldier knew from experience: do not underestimate Samuel Yin. Was the sentiment not mutual?

"Stay at the door," he said, then made for the central platform.

 _Leave the worst parts open,_ his orders were, a secondary but important objective. Thoughts of the primary one drew his gaze upward for a moment. The estate's floor plan showed a basement emergency shelter strong enough to withstand anything short of a nuke, but all the action flowed up, not down.

The passwords from Command worked. YSS's secrets lay at the soldier's fingertips. _But not Yin's_. Scipio's leader wouldn't have trusted the soldier with that kind of information.

He looked over his shoulder. Crafts and Warmack were watching the door intently. The soldier entered a command into the console and started copying those files to his omni-tool.

"How much longer, sir?" Crafts asked.

"There's more security than I thought. Give me a minute." _This isn't necessary, but it can't hurt._

Once the progress bar filled, the soldier cut the connection. "Let's go."

"Sighting at the southwest gate," Command said. "Identities confirmed: Miranda Lawson, Garrus Vakarian, Tali'Zorah. Squads Bravo and Delta, delay them."

The soldier took a moment to consider what those orders meant—could mean, not for the squad, but for him. He checked the estate map and started toward the new objective marker, signaling for his team to follow him. "We'll get to the door and cloak. When they get through, we use the standard stealth ambush. We wound them if we can, retreat before things get rough."

His squad mates said their "aye-aye's."

YSS's resistance was either focused elsewhere, on the _real_ threat, or shattered utterly. They reached the estate's restaurant in short order. "Positions," the soldier said. "You two flank the entrance, I'll be here."

If Command's delaying order was the opportunity, Crafts's first step was the moment to seize. The point of no return the soldier had waited for more than a month. The flash of anticipation that led to crystal clarity. Without even a split-second of hesitation, the soldier raised his pistol, held it close to the back of Crafts's head.

The instant he took the shot, he gestured with his free hand. The biotic field flew. Warmack's body smashed against the wall with a crash and a crack.

The soldier severed his suit's connection to Command, violently as if he'd shared the others' fate. Staring out the door, he wanted to take off his helmet then and there, guide Garrus and the others to Shepard, but like another old friend, there was a time and place—and audience—for everything. So instead he powered off his shields and switched on his cloak. There was a signal jammer to destroy.

 

The entrance to The Finale restaurant was open, and two Scipio agents were the doormen. One lay face-down, a gunshot wound at the back of his head and blood pooling on the hardwood floor. The other looked more like a ragdoll, neck broken, as if thrown with great force.

Meanwhile all the chairs remained on the tables for the night, and neither the walls nor the decorations on them showed any signs of damage. For once, someone got the drop on Scipio, someone with biotics. _They were here to watch for reinforcements,_ Miranda thought. _Or maybe us._

"How long ago were they killed?" she asked Garrus. She had planned on meeting with Yin during proper hours of the day, but Joker reported a communications and security blackout in the dead of Scott's night. Between prep and the shuttle ride from the orbital station to the city, getting to the Yin Estate took far too long.

Garrus scanned through an omni-tool window. "Only a few minutes ago."

"They could still be here," Tali said.

"We should find Yin," Miranda said. "The question is, where would he be?"

She opened the estate's layout on her visor HUD, making for the middle of the estate's first floor. Past the 1920s-themed restaurant, a massive steel panel stretched from the floor to the high ceiling, blocking off the front entrance and Yin's nightclub. Through night vision, there were clearly no bodies.

"There's a bunker in the basement. If Yin tried moving there, there would be signs of violence."

"If it was a sneak attack," Garrus said, "there wouldn't have been time."

"Which makes the fourth floor my next guess."

A gunshot sounded, and Miranda's shields pulsed. Scipio agents de-cloaked, one on each flank.

 _They're here to delay us._ Otherwise they would've come in closer.

Their mistake. Miranda strafed around the pistol fire and slammed one into the ceiling. Garrus dived into cover beside a sofa. Tali's drone let out dozens of small bolts. The spasming Scipio soldier was an easy target for Garrus's rifle. As the soldier Miranda dealt with crashed to the floor, there was a flash of orange in the corner of her eye.

She sidestepped a strike from an omni-tool. The decloaking soldier threw a fast hook. Miranda sidestepped, driving her knee into his gut. From her free hand, another biotic field hurled him against the partition door.

Seconds passed. No other hostiles appeared.

 _Elevator or stairs?_ The former required getting through the blast door, but beyond it, if the estate was in lockdown as it seemed, Tali would have to bypass even more security to gain control of the elevator itself. The winding hallways of the Yin Estate posed their own risks: Scipio agents lying in ambush, maybe even YSS troops mistaking them for the enemy, the estate's built-in defenses…

Time was a factor, and getting to the elevator involved too many unknowns.

Yet on the next two floors, neither hostiles nor defenses interrupted them. Only dead YSS troops marked the way to the fourth floor. Once Tali unlocked the door, Garrus took point. Three steps into the hallway, however, he froze. Miranda saw exactly why.

"I'm in position," Kasumi said. _"_ But…"

 _What happened to the jammer?_ "I know. We're here."

Amid the scattered YSS and Scipio corpses, Samuel Yin knelt on the cream marble floor. Even at this hour he was in his suit, though it was wrinkled and frayed at the edges. His hands were the only thing between the back of his head and the muzzle of a heavy pistol.

"Tell your men to stand down," his captor said. "It's over."

Yin flicked his eyes up towards the squad. "Is it?"

Miranda stepped forward past Garrus, pistol pointed at the floor. "Sorry we're late."

Shepard's gun didn't move as their commander leveled a tense glare at them. He clenched his jaw. "I told you all to stay on the _Normandy_ and wait for me to return." There was ice in his tone, as if his squad were true hostiles, but also an undercurrent of uncertainty. "Those were _orders_."

"You _lied_ to us. Did you think we wouldn't have found out?"

"You found out because of him." Shepard waved his pistol at Yin. "Have you figured out he's been using you?"

"Don't blame me for your lack of foresight," Yin said, a light chuckle punctuating his statement. "You gambled without knowing all the factors. And you lost."

"Yin told us everything," Miranda said. "Your 'secret' included."

Fear. It was only a flicker, but the moment it crossed Shepard's eyes was unmistakable.

Yin laughed. "She's right. I did. But really, it doesn't matter. You did all this to save your reputation, but here you are, burning it to the ground better than—" A loud crack as Shepard's pistol whipped against Yin's head. He fell face down and lay still.

Shepard gave him only a disgusted glance before he returned his attention to Miranda's squad. "You're bluffing."

"We could've helped you," Tali said, stepping forward. "If you'd told us someone was blackmailing you, you wouldn't even have needed to tell us what they were using."

"It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?"

"I don't think we can talk him down," Kasumi said. "But I can get him from behind. Just a quick tase." On the radar, her blue dot was on the other end of the hallway, creeping towards the middle.

Violence, Miranda thought, even only to subdue. But after Omega…

"Let me talk to him first," said another voice on the channel.

No one else had a better chance of getting through to Shepard. Miranda patched the channel into her omni-tool.

"Hey."

Shepard made no response to the sound of Joker's voice.

"What, you didn't think I'd have something to say? I've spent way too much time steering this piece of junk across the galaxy. Because, you know, you sabotaged our ship and shut down EDI. Maybe you can keep quiet about it, but I sure as hell can't. What the _fuck_ , Shepard?"

Still silence. Were Joker's words working, or was Shepard closing up even more?

"Are we actually talking to Commander Shepard, because I'm half-convinced—"

"Joker. Don't." Shepard's voice was low, strained.

Seconds passed. "You beat Cerberus." The fire in Joker's voice had died down. "What's the difference with Scipio or whoever these guys are?"

Kasumi's dot was right behind Shepard now. The commander averted his gaze, his pistol wavering.

"Listen to him," Garrus said.

Shepard shifted on his feet. His eyes met Miranda's, then the other two, then her omni-tool, as if Joker was right there. He wanted to rejoin them, Miranda knew it from his face and his stance. But as he put away his gun, his unease steeled into remorseful resolve. "You need to trust me."

"Victor," Joker said—

A cascade of light. Kasumi's cloak dropped as she lunged forward.

Shepard flowed asround her strike. He plucked something off his belt. "I'll be done with this soon." His hand lashed out. His visor went dark. A small sphere landed at their feet. A bang, and blinding white overtook Miranda's world.

By the time the details of the hallway returned to focus, Shepard was gone. Yin as well. Though a shattered window, a shuttle rumbled. The following roar faded quickly into silence.

Miranda holstered her pistol. "Damn it."

"I can't believe this," Garrus said. "I knew something like it was coming since the _Normandy_ was grounded, but seeing Shepard like that... it's not something I want to get used to."

"All the more reason we track them down."

Two dead YSS troops lay inside Yin's office, and the desk's contents were scattered on the floor, but the computer appeared intact.

Miranda started searching through it. "They took Yin alive. He still has something they want. Likely another thing he neglected to tell us about."

"I can help with that," a voice said.

Tali whirled around. "Wait. _You're_ here?"

"It might seem like a coincidence..." Kaidan Alenko stepped inside the office, hands raised. "But it's not. I can explain everything. Well, _almost_ everything."


	15. Chapter 15

He should've gone farther.

At the Yin Estate, Samuel Yin couldn't stop talking, even as his soldiers died around him. Now, blindfolded, bound, and gagged, he kept his head pointed at the Scipio shuttle's floor. Where the pistol struck, his hair was caked with blood.

He was a powerful man brought low, but Commander Shepard would've gone farther. _"You'll want to kill him,"_ he was told. _"Understandably so. But for now, I need him intact."_ Shepard had to content himself with a single knockout blow, but even then Yin woke up minutes after the escape.

_"Do not underestimate him."_

The buildings of Scott gave way to a wide expanse of farmland as Shepard made the call. A window appeared over his omni-tool.

"We have Yin," he said, glancing at the two Scipio agents in the cabin with him.

"Excellent. I've just arrived at Paradise. Given the nature of our guest, I'm recalling the majority of my people there. Be prepared for a busy arrival." Cordial and professional. His former commanding officer was always like that, even now, as if Shepard was one of her willing underlings.

As if she hadn't sent him a message that brought back the ship, the gunshot, and the red planet beyond the window of the escape pod.

He nodded, betraying nothing on his face. "Noted. Shepard out."

Yin and the agents remained silent. Shepard turned his back to them and stared out the window.

He'd intended to observe, doing the barest minimum of what was ordered and undermining where he could. Scipio wanted him as their ace in the hole. He wanted to be the slow poison eating away at them. Once they'd weakened enough, he would've broken free and ended them, quickly and quietly.

But Samuel Yin happened, and that plan went down in flames.

The squad had to be in pursuit already, trail or no trail. Shepard wanted to believe that taking Yin would slow them down, but he had underestimated them already. _Even after all those ground missions and investigations. After the Collectors' base._ If they thought he was an idiot, they were probably justified.

 _Wait until they know everything,_ he added bitterly. When they caught up with him, or when he returned, sparing any detail wasn't an option.

At the very least, and at long last, the first piece was falling into place.

 _"You have to trust me,"_ he said, more to Jeff than anyone else. _"I'll be done with this soon."_

The ship docked at the orbital station wasn't the _Normandy_ —or at least, the Cerberus imitation. Decontamination finished and the inner airlock door opened to a barebones commercial freighter. Kaidan Alenko had to stifle his disappointment. Thankfully, he'd gotten used to doing that over the past month.

"Traveling incognito?" he asked.

It took an extra moment before Garrus said, "You can say that, but we really didn't have a choice. The _Normandy's_ at the Citadel in lockdown. You can probably figure out why."

Garrus and Tali were welcome presences, people Kaidan could trust—not just "trust to do this" or "trust that they want this," but trust, full-stop. Their squad leader, however, was a different story. _"Your mistrust of Cerberus is understandable, as is Shepard's,"_ she had said on Horizon. _"But keep in mind that Cerberus, not the Citadel or the Alliance, kept this colony from vanishing entirely."_ That black and orange logo he first saw on Nepheron was nowhere on her armor, however.

Kaidan leveled a measured gaze at Miranda. "So, Scipio's one pro-human group too many?"

She arched an eyebrow. "I no longer work for Cerberus. Neither does Shepard."

The rest of the crew was waiting for them in the cargo hold: Joker, plus more faces he recognized from Horizon. The batarian survivor from Omega stood apart from the others. Comm chatter rendered Kaidan's arrival a non-surprise, though his presence likely remained a very big one.

"I remember you," the krogan said. "You missed a great fight when we blew up the Collectors. These terrorists are just pyjaks."

Joker had replaced his old hat with a black and white one saying "SR2," and he looked less haggard than when he stormed out that door in Arcturus. "Nice of you to join us. Great to see you again. How's it going?" Then, more pointedly, "What's going on?"

"Sorry," Tali said. "We've all been on edge since this started, and it's only getting worse."

 _I can imagine_ , Kaidan thought as Tali introduced the newer faces: Jack, Grunt, and Veshan. Gathered around crates in the polar opposite of a high-tech warship, they seemed more like fugitives or refugees than the crew of Commander Shepard. Anna Whitwell's plans had a way of stripping people of their advantages then drawing them into her own world, like placing pieces on a chess board. Still, this squad followed the trail farther and faster than he expected. That counted for something.

Kaidan stepped toward the makeshift conference table. "My part in this started about a week after Horizon. Alliance Command and the salarian STG found that someone was stealing classified tech and intel from them. Anderson assigned me to investigate…"

He retraced his steps: the STG research facility, where he and Spectre Jondum Bau captured Elizabeth Yin; Caesar Station, where he started his infiltration of Scipio. He almost mentioned Omega and his lucky encounter with Liara, but coming out of hiding was her choice to make. "When I learned Whitwell gave some of her people a task involving Shepard, I… got myself on the job."

"You planted that footage on the datapad in the warehouse," a hooded woman said as she emerged from a cloak. "Kasumi Goto, by the way."

"That explains the password," Garrus said.

Kaidan nodded. "I figured his crew might start looking for him."

"And now you're here," Miranda said. "Do you know where they've taken Yin?"

"I do. The Scipio base on Elysium."

"Good." She took a look around at the crew. "We've pursued these people through the Citadel, Omega, and Terra Nova. Personally, I want to make sure Elysium is the last leg of the chase. We'll leave that planet with Shepard, dragging him if we must, and with Scipio destroyed."

Jack chuckled. "That's the best thing you've said since you started running this show."

"What about Yin?" Kaidan asked.

Miranda frowned. "We'll deal with him, too. Why the question?"

Whitwell had briefed him on Samuel Yin after she first learned of his involvement. Her description omitted details, as always, but it didn't lie about what mattered.

"Maybe you already know this," Kaidan said, "but he just might be worse than Scipio."

 

The next day, Yin hit the chair with a thud. Shepard wrangled his arms behind its back, placed haptic shackles around his wrists, then did the same with his ankles.

Anna Whitwell nodded her approval. The narrow-faced, pale pink woman had long done away with her merit-strewn dress blues, replacing them with a simple tailored black suit. Rectangular glasses framed green eyes as they appraised the new captive. "You can watch outside if you'd like. This should only take a few minutes, and I'd like a word with you afterwards."

Shepard did so. A wide two-way mirror allowed him a look into the brightly lit but plain interrogation room. He took a place at the other observer's side.

Former Staff Lieutenant Elizabeth Yin looked like a ghost in the dark, face somber and focused on the view.

A lifetime ago, they fought side-by-side through zero-gravity combat and celebrated with a bar hop into the night when they got their stripes. Finding her among Scipio's ranks was even more of a disappointment than that first meeting with Whitwell. "You, too?" was a question he came close to asking several times since.

This time he asked instead, "You sure you want to watch this?"

"You know what he's done," she said, a hair above a whisper, then took a deep breath. "Whitwell told me right after she told you."

_How much did she share?_

Shepard's earpiece buzzed as Whitwell started pacing around Yin's chair. "Welcome back, Samuel." Her bony hand clasped the edge of the blindfold and plucked it from his face. I imagine you know why I had you captured."

"Yes, yes." Yin's smile returned. "Though I'd prefer nicer accommodations."

"You had my Omega outpost raided."

A chuckle from the bound man. "Straight to business."

"Six nuclear explosives were stolen. Six nuclear explosives I was safeguarding from _you_."

"Scipio obviously did a terrible job of that."

"You also enlisted the aid of the _Normandy_."

"I figured the best counter to your new trump card is the crew who knows him best. Of course, they don't know what we know." Yin pointed his smirk towards what was a mirror on his side.

Shepard gave no reaction, though he saw Liz glance at him from the corner of his eye.

"The explosives. Where are they now?" Whitwell asked.

"You don't have to ask me that. Give it some time, you'll find out soon enough."

"Don't play coy. Your mass slaughter would incite a war that would cost _human_ lives. How many humans died when you bombed Omega?"

"Omelets and eggs. Meanwhile, you would flail pocket knives at the problem. 'To the hard of hearing you shout,' 'for the almost blind you draw large and startling figures.' And for the scum of the galaxy you offer a big bomb. We've had this argument before, but I'd gladly do the old dance with you if that's what you want."

"I _want_ the locations." Whitwell stopped pacing. "But since you're dead set on quips, I'll let you take a few hours to ponder your predicament." With that, she left the interrogation room and gestured for the guards.

The leader of Scipio paused her march by the two N7s. "Yin, dismissed. Shepard, with me."

Liz nodded, and returned to watching her father, still as a statue. Shepard fell in step beside Whitwell as they took the first of a long flight of steps to the base's main level. Beside, not behind. He wasn't one of her subordinates, not now and not ever again.

 _"Shepard: You owe a debt for Alesh'khal."_ From the first sentence, the message ended the calm after the Collector mission. _"I will collect it at the enclosed coordinates. Come alone and tell no one."_ Whitwell awaited him at the end of a shuttle ride to what used to be Doru Station, as assured of herself as she was now. She needed his help for the next phase of her plans, but "needed" was a nice word for "demanded."

Tali said they would've helped him. He wanted to believe that.

The main level of Scipio's HQ bustled the same way the bridge of the _Munich_ did, in defiance of the labyrinthine corridors designed to thwart intruders. Agents dipped their heads to them in passing. Whitwell replied with near-imperceptible nods.

"I should commend you for your decision at the Yin Estate. I allowed your crew to meet you as a test." Whitwell paused at Shepard's silence. "If you haven't realized, I test everyone who joins Scipio. Solo missions, confrontations with skeletons in the closet... you passed. I wonder if the younger Yin will do the same."

"I thought she was with you since the start."

"Yes, but now her father's involved. I need to see her full reaction to how we accommodate him."

With deft, mechanical motions Whitwell input the entry code and retinal scan for her office and entered. Like the one on Doru Station, and the old one aboard the _Munich_ , it contained only the barest essentials for her work. The door closed as she took her seat.

"Do you know what happened to the Alliance colony on Mindoir fifteen years ago?" she asked.

Shepard sat across from her. "No."

"Batarian slavers. Mindoir was a farming settlement, barely defended. Of almost three hundred residents, only a  handful survived and evaded the control chips. Two of them are in this base."

"The Yins."

"Samuel likes to be the enigma, but a little digging can pierce the fog. Before Yin Security Services, he was Mindoir's police commissioner. After the batarian raid, he put his daughter through school while he built up a small fortune in the Traverse and the Terminus under the alias 'Jason Tan.'"

"Doing what?"

"Apparently, guarding private merchant ships. But we both can surmise how accurate the records are. Yin's methods are barbaric, but he would never have made it this far without knowing subtlety."

"So when he made enough money, he went to Terra Nova and founded his company."

"YSS existed even during his mercenary days, just not as an official outfit. Still, your guess is correct. But don't believe for a second that profit was his primary motive."

"He wanted revenge."

Whitwell nodded. "For Mindoir, and for his wife and sons. That's the difference between him and me. I want to eliminate the biggest, most persistent threat to human expansion and human lives. Samuel Yin's ruled by baser aspirations." She leaned back in her chair and placed her hands on her lap. "Your part in this distraction is done. I'll have a mission for you after Samuel is dealt with. Dismissed."

A minute after Shepard left, his omni-tool lit up with a notification. Days of cracking through security met with success, and the passwords he needed lay in his grasp.

 

Clean cadet grey walls pressed in on a group too large for the studio apartment, but it was one of the few places in Elysium's capital Illyria outside Scipio's gaze. Anderson's resources made it a sanctuary where Kaidan could report back to the Alliance. Now Garrus, Tali, and Joker's presence, among the other relative strangers, blurred that link back to simplicity.

The base's blueprints hovered a foot above the floor. A secret bunker below the city, he explained. "A billionaire had it built in case another Blitz happened. After he died, Whitwell somehow got her hands on it. It's supposed to be impenetrable by an invading force, if they ever found the entrances."

"Except," Kasumi said, "the invading force in this case isn't an army of pirates. And one of the invaders is supposed to be on their side."

"How do we crack it?" Garrus asked.

"Scipio's set up more infrastructure here than any other of their bases, but it all connects to…" Kaidan opened a map of the city and placed a marker on the Cronus Hill district. "Here. A central listening post."

"Not the base itself?" Miranda asked.

"A constant stream of information would've been a risk to anyone paying attention. The listening post only communicates with the base at a preset schedule, or in an emergency. It's basically the base's pair of eyes."

Miranda nodded. "So a careful seizure or sabotage will let us launch a surprise attack. But they must have agents roaming the streets, too. Probably looking for us, if they haven't seen us already. Dealing with the listening post will deal with them?"

"Assuming they don't just go back to the base if they see us."

"If they try that, they're dead," Miranda said, then looked at Shepard's squad. "We have a first step. Garrus, Kasumi, Tali, you're on the listening post."

"Understood," Garrus said. "Once it's down we'll have a clear shot at the base."

"Where we'll still be heavily outnumbered."

"We can try a two-pronged attack. A few of us at the front door, the rest at the sewer entrance." Garrus pointed at each one in turn. "But that makes it all the more important we get someone in first." He looked at Kaidan.

"That'd be risky. I might've blown my cover when I didn't return with the assault team." Kaidan could invent a story, and the lie needed to hold only until the attack started. But Scipio had to be on edge, given their prisoner. A story could invite too many unwelcome questions.

"I know, but it might be riskier if we charge in blind."

"Weren't you the one who wanted to charge in blind when this started?" Joker asked.

Garrus sighed. "All right, I was wrong then, but this is different. We know what we're up against now."

"Very well," Miranda said. "We'll finalize the assault plan after the listening post is dealt with."

 _Investigate Anna Whitwell's activities_ were Kaidan's original orders from Councilor Anderson. "Investigate" slowly sharpened into "end," with its point aimed at that secret bunker. Scipio exposed. Anna Whitwell and Samuel Yin arrested. They weren't Sovereign and the rest of its kind, just people, fathomable. Beatable.

 _If we're lucky_ , Kaidan thought, _we'll find Shepard, too—and answers._

"Your part in this distraction is done," Whitwell told him. Meanwhile, half of the Scipio personnel at base Paradise wore their full gear, walking patrol routes or watching the entrances. Yin Security Services had to be planning a counterattack after their recent humiliation, if the scuttlebutt was to be believed, and even with most of Scipio present, Samuel Yin's private army outnumbered them ten to one.

The original owner built this place for such a siege, however, and a united, well-trained force would make good use of it.

Almost all of Whitwell's agents were former Alliance, Shepard noted, stepping into an empty barracks. _Well-trained, but not united. Even without me here._ The haptic interface over his omni-tool chirped with a string of deliberate but rapid keystrokes: the password his spy program had found. "Log in," and Whitwell's personal files stretched down in a long list. He needed only one.

_"After Action Report - MSV Snake Fang."_

"Delete," then "Confirm."

There were backups, of course, but that was a matter of rinse and repeat. Password, log in, delete, confirm. Password, log in, delete, confirm. It was like breaking ropes, not with a roar and a strong tug, but with a small knife, one by one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaidan: When he originally got involved in a conspiracy cooked up by Shepard's old associates, he got put on a collision course with Shepard… except Kaidan stayed anonymous and under Shepard's nose. Let's just say Shepard has other things on his mind than the possibility of a very unlikely spy.
> 
> The Crew: One thing I wanted for the rewrite was to have the Normandy crew be more active players, rather than being dragged around by Yin. Previously we saw the crew independently pursue a lead (Veshan).
> 
> Shepard: More independence for him, too! He seems to be cooking up a game plan of his own. 
> 
> "To the hard of hearing you shout, for the almost blind you draw large and startling figures." Clearly Yin enjoys his mid-20th-century US literature. Flannery O'Connor, anyone?


	16. Chapter 16

"I've always wondered," Samuel Yin said, "which Scipio is your organization's namesake, the one who humbled Carthage or the one who destroyed it? It seems to me that the Blitz is our Zama, or perhaps Torfan. That would make you more the latter. But the younger Scipio didn't use saboteurs and assassins." He grinned. "He burned Carthage to the ground and enslaved the survivors. Rather batarian, don't you think?"

Anna Whitwell stared at him from across the interrogation table. _I should arm my men with swords and spears and send them off on horseback, then, if historical accuracy is so important to you._ It was always the literal over the figurative with Yin. Simple as his thinking was, underestimating him often proved fatal—both literally and figuratively—to his rivals. He'd attempted to derail the interrogation often enough that his motives became transparent. What was he stalling for? The bombs? If so, he was gambling yet again, and perhaps _he_ was underestimating _her._

"You realize that your company is finished?" Whitwell asked. "I had my people leave a great deal of your dirty laundry out for the Terra Nova authorities. Once the colony realizes who exactly they've let fester in the middle of their capital… you certainly won't be returning to your estate."

"I thought that was a given."

"All your resources will amount to nothing under scrutiny. The evidence is stacked against you. I'm sure I don't have to spell out what I'm offering you."

"Sanctuary in exchange for information? Generous, but I must refuse."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss me." Yin funded Scipio in its early days, but Whitwell once walked through the rubble of his colony.

No house, no school, no business remained standing. Like gutted beasts their metal and stone innards were splattered across the broken streets. Lieutenant Whitwell took careful steps over the remnants of walls and fallen light posts, over scorch marks and blood splatters. The present Whitwell didn't remember the orders she snapped at the Alliance troops or even the route she took through the ruins of Mindoir, but she did remember thinking _"Savagery."_ The batarians left nothing.

"Your life is gone," their work seemed to say. "Our control chips are your only option."

The stench of burning death stung her nose. Soldiers slipped the lucky ones into body bags and escorted the luckier ones to relief shuttles. And either down some street or around some corner, Whitwell spied a basement door, battered but still intact, unlike the house it belonged to.

On a hunch she approached and knocked on the charred metal. "Is anyone in there? I'm with the Alliance Navy."

Nothing. She tried again, "I'm Lieutenant Anna Whitwell, from the cruiser SSV _Clermont_. The Alliance navy has arrived. If anyone is in there, it's safe to come out."

She waited a few seconds. The house had collapsed, and it seemed likely that the basement had caved in as well. Frowning, she stepped back.

The door bucked under a strong pound. "The door's broken," a girl's voice said. "My dad needs help."

Whitwell glanced around and waved two servicemen over. "Get this door open. There are survivors inside."

They did, and they brought out a teenage girl, dirtied and quiet with her short black hair a mess. Her father, however, leaned on a soldier as he limped into the street. A shirt was wrapped around his chest, white on one side and red on the other. The soldiers set him down, checked his wound.

The girl stared at them, then at Whitwell. "They're gone?" she asked, or something to that effect.

The lieutenant nodded, a silent sugarcoating.

In the present, Whitwell said, "I saved you once, I can save you again. Hear me out."

Samuel Yin gave her a mocking sigh. "Talk, then."

"After this is done, I can arrange for you to start a new life in the Terminus Systems. It'll be a house arrest, you understand, but a comfortable one. Better than true imprisonment or execution."

"How hospitable. Does this extend to my daughter?"

"That depends on her and on you."

Yin chuckled. "She's always followed her own mind. I wanted her to join my company, instead she went to the Alliance. Then she joined you, which was fine until you decided you didn't need me anymore."

"Clearly she's the wise one."

The chuckle turned into a loud guffaw. "One thing we can agree on. She's wiser than you know. You, on the other hand… involving Shepard? Not your brightest move."

"His work has been of great benefit to Scipio. With time, his contributions will far exceed yours."

"Sure, sure. But you realize this man defeated the Citadel's star Spectre and his geth army? What are you—what are _we_ —next to that?"

"Shepard's record is impressive. That's why I've turned it towards my objectives."

"With blackmail. That won't end well for you."

"We'll see." Shepard understood the price of defying her, unlike Samuel Yin. "Now. Do you accept my offer or not?"

"What do you think my answer is, Anna?"

Disappointing, but still expected. "Very well. I did say I _wanted_ the names. I already have what I _need_." Whitwell gave him a pointed look.

"I'm flattered."

"Good. Because I acquired a particular piece of intelligence, and it's rather odd, for a man with your medical history. I thought you wouldn't be so transparent."

"Only because there's no need to be opaque. I always act with an excellent grasp on the situation."

"Grasp this: you'll be staying here until those weapons are found and deactivated. Then and only then, will you choose how you die. Unless, of course, you take my offer." She left, not looking back at him.

_He gives no mercy and expects none,_ she thought, beginning the long ascent to Paradise's main level. _One reason why he's so dangerous._

He himself spelled out another. Shepard's crew let the nuclear weapons fall into his hands because he was their only lead on their missing commander. _Now he wants me to execute him._ And she would. There was no other option. _Simple solution: deviate from his expectations._

Snatched from death's jaws on Mindoir, Samuel Yin looked like a corpse regardless of everything the Alliance medics did. Now, teetering at death's precipice on Elysium, he carried himself in an interrogation room with a jolly sort of energy, flashing savage grins at every Scipio agent in sight. Such behavior fit his nature. The man leveled city blocks at Omega, crushing and incinerating innocents.

_Savagery._ No human, no alien deserved what he did, what he planned. Even batarians.

The alliance with Lord Zora proved advantageous and illuminating. Though him, Whitwell gained an foothold at the highest levels of the Hegemony… and a view at the bottom, at the masses buckling under centuries of government excesses.

_"The first victims of institutionalized slavery,"_ Zora said. His insights did not change her goal, only focus it.

Before matters of civilization and liberation, however, came the matter of Samuel Yin.

 

"You never told me about Mindoir."

Shepard found Elizabeth Yin in Paradise's armory, with assembled weapons to her left and the parts of a submachine gun on the workbench in front of her. She set a piece of an x-mod down and didn't turn around. "Let me guess. Whitwell told you."

"She did."

"Figures. So my dad and I survived a batarian raid, and my mom and my two little brothers didn't. Does it change anything?"

"It helps explain a few things. Like why you're here."

"I'm here for a lot of reasons, not just Mindoir. Elysium. Torfan. Balak." She stepped back from the bench and turned around. "You."

"Me?"

"You were declared KIA hunting geth in the Terminus Systems, and the Alliance brass stopped wanting anything to do with you. It seemed to me—still seems—that the Alliance got you killed, even after everything you did."

"What does this have to do with Scipio?"

"I realized the Alliance doesn't value good people like it should, throwing them away on unimportant things. So I followed Whitwell to get the real work done. To stop Elysium from happening again. Or Terra Nova. And yes, Mindoir too."

He'd heard this before: Garrus left C-Sec to fight the underworld powers of Omega, and Joker resigned from the Alliance for almost the same reasons as Liz. Through Project Overlord, Gavin Archer sought to prevent another Battle of the Citadel.

That mission's memory brought back Kai Leng. Shepard took his eyes off Liz, disliking the comparison.

A tiny smile crossed Liz's face. "I did it in your memory, but as it turns out, here you are. My turn for a question: what actually happened out there?"

"The reports didn't lie. The _Normandy_ went down in flames, and I..." _Drifted into Alchera's atmosphere, suffocating and burning away._ He tensed, then took a deep breath. Only half an act. "... I went with it. And since I know you're going to ask, I'm alive because of Cerberus and a few billion credits."

"You sound so matter-of-fact about it."

"I've had time to process." Time, and someone with an open ear. Until now he'd only let himself recall his death, let himself show that vulnerability, with Joker. "When I wasn't grappling with the fact that I was working for Cerberus."

Liz frowned. "For what it's worth, I told Whitwell not to involve you."

"Doesn't look like she listened."

"No, but I still think joining us should be a choice. We've gotten a lot done with you aboard, but I can't feel good about it."

"So you could if someone else had done it."

"What are you getting at?"

"Isn't it obvious? That none of this is right?"

"Are we going to start arguing right and wrong now? Because I mentioned a lot of things that were wrong."

"Liz. Trust me when I say we're going to need all the help we can get. Even from the batarians. Remember Sovereign?"

"The geth ship you blew up."

"No. Sovereign wasn't a geth ship, and there are at least a thousand more like it, on their way to continue what it started. I'm talking about the Reapers, Liz."

"The—" She blinked, incredulous. "That conspiracy theory? I thought the Council just associated it with you so they'd have an excuse to sweep you under the rug. But you actually believe it?"

"The Prothean beacons I found had records of them. And Sovereign spoke to me at the Citadel."

Whitwell would've scoffed if he'd told her what he just told Liz, writing it off as a distraction. The batarians were all that mattered to her. Liz had more cause to hate them, but she fell silent. Shepard dared to hope as she looked away.

"You don't have to believe it," he said. "Just say you're not going to ignore me."

"I can't just throw away everything I've worked for on your word."

"Why? Because it's inconvenient?"

" _Inconvenient?_ Was what the batarians did to my family inconvenient?"

Then he saw it. Shepard lowered his voice. "So you're here for revenge."

The anger on Liz's face melted away.

"Whitwell told me she's watching you while your dad's being interrogated." He took a step outside the door. "I think she wants to know how similar you are to him."

 

Tourists huddled in the shadow of the square's central obelisk while a camera drone hovered in front of them. A figurine cast in the same polished metal as the rest of the monument loomed overhead. It was too small and too far away, but this was Elysium, and this was the Shepard Memorial Plaza. Seated at a cafe table beside the main pathway, Joker threw a mock salute at the distant figure then took a sip of his coffee.

Around that group of tourists were several more with the same idea. Around them: walkers, and talkers, and walkers who talked—amongst themselves or alone with an omni-tool out. An engraving of a romantic take on the Blitz stretched across the plaza grounds, but the collective feet of the holiday crowd trampled over most of the details.

The visor of his cap would've been welcome, but the "SR2" would've given the game away. YSS's more confidential files had a surprising amount of intel on the Elysium base, thanks to their own moles in Scipio. Whoever they were, they stayed hidden long enough to nail down the faces of Scipio agents assigned to roaming the streets—and their patrol routes. It just so happened that the one closest to Cronus Hill frequented Shepard's tourist trap. With Miranda running everything, Garrus, Tali, and Kasumi moving on the listening post, and Grunt babysitting Veshan up aboard the _En Passant_ , that left Jack and Joker to play early warning. And a body covered in tattoos, while impressive, drew way more attention than the hat would've.

_Oh. There's him too._ Kaidan's entrance, out of nowhere and almost soundless, would've made Shepard proud. _Too bad they didn't tell him Shepard's big secret._ Joker put his coffee aside and started on the deli sandwich as Kaidan sat across from him.

"That any good?" Kaidan asked.

Joker chewed, slightly slower than usual, then swallowed. "Overpriced. Part of the camouflage. Shouldn't you be somewhere else?"

The question came out with more hostility than he wanted, but Kaidan bore the brunt of it without a reaction. Strange; two years ago, it would've gotten a frown at least, or a wince. Kaidan was a put-together kind of guy, but he wasn't a complete stoic. _Guess you can't go flinching at everything when you're hanging out with terrorists._

"Until the others finish what they're doing, I'm free," Kaidan said.

"For… what? A nice catching up by Shepard's memorial?"

"We might not get the chance later. After this is done, it's straight back to the Alliance for me."

Joker burst out laughing, burying his forehand in his palm.

"I don't see the humor here."

It took a few moments for Joker to clamp his mouth shut and settle down. The sandwich helped. The coffee probably didn't. " _You're_ the humor here. You, doing what… you've been doing." He lowered his voice. Maybe this wasn't a great conversation to have in public, but Kaidan insisted. "And to take down these terrorists, you're working with a bunch of 'ex-terrorists.' 'Traitors.'" He snorted, and shoved his sandwich into his mouth.

"This is about Horizon, isn't it?"

"If only it was just that. When was the last time we actually saw each other?"

Kaidan sighed. "Arcturus. You…"

"Tossed my old hat into a garbage can as I stormed out of Admiral Hackett's office? You know what the shrink told him about me? You can probably guess."

Back then, he couldn't tell if Hackett's displeasure was aimed at him, or the therapist's wording, or both. Probably both. The Alliance gifted the admiral with a spacious office, and his presence matched its size. Across the desk, Joker had never felt so tiny. _"He didn't paint a flattering picture,"_ Hackett said.

Meanwhile a man who fit "nondescript" to a T sat down at a park bench on the other side of some shrubs.

"You know," Joker said. "It's kinda hard to multitask with this engrossing conversation going on."

"Part of the camouflage?"

Joker flicked a glance at the Scipio agent. "Not really effective if they recognize you."

Kaidan looked furtively over his shoulder. "Won't be a problem. So…" His voice went soft. "They blamed you for Shepard's death, didn't they?"

"Do you?"

"No. Of course not. But that's not the issue between us, is it? It's…" His eyes flicked downward for a moment. "You were drummed out, I got to stay."

"I'm an asshole, Alenko, but I'm not petty. I can't blame _you_ for that."

"Then what is it?"

Joker leaned forward. "Is the Alliance any closer to doing anything about the Reapers?"

"I… what do you think I could've done by myself?"

"Something. Anything. Shepard died, the crew split up, and the brass threw away everything we fought for." _Tell me you didn't just go along with it._

"I'm not a Spectre, Joker. Just a soldier. I go where I'm assigned."

"Like hives of scum and villainy to spy on the residents. Let me guess: you didn't have a choice?"

"Bau thought it was the only way to get this done."

Joker grinned. "Hey, something you can bond with Shepard over. Chakwas and I, we joined Cerberus because we wanted to. Cerberus didn't give Shepard a choice. Well, they pretended to, but they weren't really convincing. And…" He gulped down the last of his coffee, as if it were a shot of whiskey. "I don't know why I'm defending him right now when he lied to us and sabotaged our ship."

"He's still Shepard."

Another laughing fit came close to breaking out, but Joker stifled it, settling for a pointed stare and a raised eyebrow. "Wait. You're saying you believe Cerberus put the real deal back together?"

Kaidan shrugged. "Whitwell wouldn't have bothered if she had any doubt. And if you say so, it's probably the truth."

Joker reclined in the chair. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, I guess."

"I get where you're coming from. Maybe I should've pressed my superiors about the Reapers. Maybe I shouldn't have walked away on Horizon. But… think of it this way. While you and the others operate on the outside, shouldn't there be a few people on the inside? Working in the system? Not everything has to be a revol—"

Comms opened. "Garrus here. The listening post is ours. Smoothest thing we've done so far in this mess."

"Scipio didn't notice?" Miranda asked.

Meanwhile, the agent stood up from the bench, omni-tool open, and power-walked off in a direction.

"Hey Kaidan," Joker said. "Is the… final destination that way?" He gestured.

Kaidan followed with his eyes. "Yeah."

The beginnings of a plan began piecing themselves together. Joker stood up, finishing off the sandwich. "If you've got time, we have a friend to make."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whitwell: Rather icky perspective, no? Trivia: the Clermont is named after the starting point of the First Crusade. Whitwell isn't particularly religious in her motivation, but she's certainly zealous.
> 
> Mindoir: I've always pictured Elizabeth Yin as a mirror to Shepard. In fact, my mental picture for her is the Asian Fem!Shep people didn't vote for in that "New Default Fem!Shep" poll pre-ME3. Back in "Chessboard," I hinted at some prior trauma for Samuel Yin that had to do with "Caiaphas." Caiaphas was supposed to be a colony batarian slavers raided. I decided, why not make it Mindoir instead?
> 
> Joker: I want to say I was totally building up to this conversation this whole time, starting in the last chapter of "Angles," but I totally wasn't. The rough draft was a completely different sort of talk.


	17. Chapter 17

"Right, so, base is how many blocks from here?" Joker asked.

"Twelve," Kaidan said, scanning the busy streets around them. "The entrance is under a coffee shop in the Agron District."

"Plenty of time, then. Just point and shoot. Maybe lift him up with biotics first."

"Very funny. So what's the actual plan?"

A frigate-on-frigate chase might've ended with a good shot reducing the quarry to space debris. If civilian or allied ships were around, the trick was maneuvering into a clear shot. The open streets weren't as 3D as open space, however, and any kind of shots were out of the question. The next resort for the chasing pilot was to force the target into emptier territory. Calls for obstacles or flankers did the trick. That was more applicable to chasing an enemy agent, but with no one around…

Well, one thing that came to mind had next to nothing to do with piloting, but everything to do with the situation. "Scipio has an all-clear or something?" Joker asked.

"Yeah."

"Perfect." Joker gave Tali a call.

Two minutes later, the agent changed course. Joker added a marker to his and Kaidan's city maps. They split up at a block corner, with Kaidan tailing the agent and Joker taking a different route.

As the brisk foot traffic swallowed his view of Kaidan, Joker found his shoulders relaxing. Intense conversations at an outdoor cafe made for great spy game covers—as long as the players didn't start screaming at each other. Maybe it was a good thing that Kaidan brought up those topics in public, rather than aboard the ship. Better that random strangers picked up bits and pieces than the crew hearing the whole thing.

The next street fed into a wide promenade. Its many storefronts displayed designer suits and expensive jewelry, while people dined at fancy-looking restaurants with fancier names. Joker passed by a sign saying "Grissom Gifts." _How many credits did they shell out to use that name?_ That was probably their point of pride. These parts of Illyria infused glamor and money into everything, leveraging Jon Grissom's stamp of approval and Commander Shepard's heroic stand to milk all the tourist money they could.

The next high-end store he passed had a suit he swore Shepard wore to one of their dates. Joker picked up the pace.

He needed the talk with Kaidan, he realized. _Maybe Chakwas is right._ If she was… well, it was one thing to bring out that old grievance. It was another to bring out that decision he'd made. Not quite as old, but way more deep-seated.

Where the promenade ended, the stores and the shoppers didn't. It took five blocks of walking for Joker to reach any semblance of a calm street, and one more plus an alley to get to the marker.

Kaidan did on a pretty good "act casual" beside a store's back door. Three-story buildings on both sides left him and the alley in shadow. "He should be inside."

"Ideas?" Joker got them here, but direct confrontations (without spaceships involved) were more Kaidan's deal.

Kaidan smiled faintly. "You can be bait."

"No."

"Fair enough. Just in case…" He pulled a pistol from his jacket, handed to Joker, then got to work on the door's console. "Hopefully the codes Tali sent will still work."

They did. Kaidan stepped inside, and Joker followed into a plain storage room with a single small light on the ceiling.

Joker hefted the gun in his hand. Meant for targets not wearing a full hardsuit, it was a far cry from the punchy Carnifexes and Phalanxes Shepard and the squad used. The silencer x-mod made it even more of a spy's weapon. But ever since the Collector raid on the _Normandy_ , Joker kept a modified Predator beneath his seat.

Among the rows of crates and boxes, one of the crates was out of place. It had been moved, they found, to reveal a trap door.

Kaidan knelt. "Stay behind me, but not too close." With a gentle tug he swung the door open.

The hidden passage was barely wide enough for someone's shoulders, the steps even shorter than someone's foot. At the bottom end was pitch blackness. _If I trip and break something on Kaidan, I only have myself to blame, don't I?_ Kaidan took ginger steps down, flexing the fingers of his right hand. Joker waited until he was halfway down before starting himself.

When Kaidan paused, Joker paused. _What are the odds of booby traps?_ _Don't wanna die like a Yin mook._ Every subtle sound almost seemed like the start of a gas canister's snap-hiss. Even watching from the _En Passant_ , that sound was distinctive.

The scraping of metal on metal was a faint whisper. Something rolling.

Kaidan threw up a biotic barrier as red lightning burst from the other end of the passage. With a pained grunt he staggered against a wall and slumped down. The agent approached, pistol pointed.

Joker aimed. The first few shots rattled his arms, making little more than thumping noises. The agent flinched, a free hand going to his shoulder and his gun arm drooping. The Scipio guys at Omega left Garrus and the others alone, but they had armor on, and fancy tech and biotics and weaponry. If this agent recognized him, Joker didn't him a chance to hesitate.

A filled thermal clip later, when the agent was staring blankly at the ceiling, Kaidan got up. "Guess _I_ was the bait."

"That," Joker said. "Felt good."

_Done in by bad orders._

Dion led an assault squad on Terra Nova, but on Elysium he was another body between Samuel Yin and the outside world. Shepard found him in a side room, typing into a datapad with several crates and cases stacked in front of him. As Shepard approached the man tensed and stopped his work.

"Dion."

"Commander. Don't worry, I didn't forget." He produced a small metal briefcase from the pile, with the occasional glance towards the door, then undid the latches and lifted the top half. Four thin metal cylinders lay inside. "Whitwell's orders threw everyone off, me included, but that just made it easier--"

"I don't need to hear it."

Dion's mouth clamped shut. "Right." He closed the case. "This the last one you needed?"

"Of these, yes." He would've sprung them at the culmination of Scipio's plan, when Whitwell and her people were so drunk on anticipation that they didn't notice their deaths creeping in beneath their noses. There wasn't time for that anymore. "But I need one more thing from you."

"Name it." His enthusiasm was excessive, as if being cooperative as possible would somehow improve his situation.

"Yin has a contingency plan for his capture, right?" Shepard asked, lowering his voice. "What is it?"

Dion looked away. "YSS Code Omega. Full-scale assault on whatever Scipio base he's taken to. I'm supposed to send the go signal."

"How big and how soon?"

"Yin knows about this base. He has a full platoon stationed on Elysium, probably because he figured he'd be taken here. But we're in the middle of Illyria. Moving troops undetected is near impossible, especially if they need to be armed and armored. But the odd thing is... Yin sent me a message during the attack. He doesn't want Code Omega to happen."

"No reason given?"

"None. Something must've changed his mind, but I have no idea what."

Whitwell was relying on the bunker's defenses to ward off any attack. But Yin didn't intend on giving her a fight at all, and that inaction wasn't a surrender. In the interrogation room, Yin's composure mirrored Whitwell's, icy and collected despite the man's exhaustion. A distraction? Shepard wondered.

He'd learn more, he decided, if he broke their sense of control. "YSS wouldn't be able to get through the main entrance, but what about the exit to the sewers? That one would be under less surveillance."

"That can only be opened from the inside, and Whitwell's aware there might be moles in her ranks. She's got that door under constant watch." Dion paused. "I've scanned this place before, though. There's a weakened wall adjacent to a sewer tunnel…"

_Perfect._ "You know what to do then."

The cooperativeness faded from Dion's face. "Wait, you want this attack to happen?"

"All you have to do is send that signal. Then you wouldn't have to worry about Whitwell receiving a recording of your transmission to YSS."

"No. You're asking me to betray Yin. He gave me orders."

Shepard took a step toward him. "Between Yin and me, which one of us is the immediate threat?"

Dion's jaw clenched as a semblance of boldness came over him. "I'm still a Scipio agent. If Whitwell finds out you're--"

"She won't." Shepard raised his arm. An omni-blade unfolded. "If you don't send that signal, I can just kill you, hack into your omni-tool, and do it myself. Give yourself a chance, Dion."

The glowing point inched towards Dion's throat. Brow furrowed and breathing heavy, the man stared the weapon down.

"Well?" Shepard asked.

Eyes darted between him and the blade. Finally, with a long exhale, Dion gave him a sudden jerky nod. Shepard dismissed the weapon as Dion opened an omni-tool window.

 

"I might've gone a little overkill on the Scipio guy, but hey, the pistol was silenced."

"What matters," Miranda said, "is that we keep our advantage. Well done."

Yet this was only the groundwork, she thought, ending the call and letting Kaidan's apartment settle into silence. Surprise would tip the beginning of the fight in their favor, but inside that base were over fifty hostiles. Most of them, according to Kaidan, were once some of the Alliance's best. _Like Elizabeth Yin._ Cerberus had its eye on her for Shepard's dossier, but she disappeared before Miranda or Jacob could make contact. Now her father was Scipio's prisoner. Was that something to leverage?

Shepard was another matter, a far more definite wild card. _We'd be making him choose again._ This time, hopefully, he'd do the right thing.

Miranda stood up from the sofa and started to pace.

"Nervous?" Jack asked from her corner. "We wiped out the Collectors. These guys are just shit."

_But disruptive and destructive nonetheless._ "Different enemies require different tactics." That was a lesson she learned long ago. "You can agree that this dilemma is nothing like the Collectors."

"So far. But now we know where their hole in the ground is. Once we're there, we just have to wreck the place and kill everyone."

  _We went into the Collector base mostly blind out of necessity. Here we have the option to learn about what we're facing._ Once Kaidan infiltrated the base and scouted their defensive setup, perhaps Miranda would share Jack's confidence.

Miranda omni-tool lit up with a call. "What is it?"

Veshan appeared to be at the _En Passant's_ helm. _Has he stolen…_ But the batarian seemed more disquieted than triumphant, looking back and forth between the camera and other displays. "Since your helmsman let me into all this spy data, I've been keeping track." He grunted. "With the krogan looking over my shoulder."

Grunt's low cackle came from off-camera.

Miranda quieted her alarm and the following embarrassment. _Veshan wants the same thing as us: for this to be over._ "Have you found anything?"

"The nukes you're tracking. They're on batarian colonies. This Yin is targeting my people."

_And of course we learn this now._ "Which colonies?"

"Camala, Alesh'khal, Lorek, Logasiri, and Anhur."

Camala was the batarians' wealthiest colony, and the capitals of Anhur and Lorek were congested metropolises. But to stop Yin meant crossing boundaries and borders, breaking batarian laws. Where humans were concerned, the Hegemony wasn't very understanding. Especially after recent events.

"Besides Yin," Veshan said, "we might be the only ones who know. We can stop them."

_Not now_ , she thought. _Likely not ever._ And not when they were so close here. "What about Scipio? I thought you joined us to stop _them_."

"Five nukes will do more damage than a bunch of assassins. Millions live on those colonies."

Miranda took a deep breath. "I understand. But we're not in a position to deal with them by ourselves. Try contacting the colonies' law enforcement."

He sighed. "Not the answer I wanted, but reasonable. Veshan out."

 

Without so much as a hint of sound, the tiny metal canister rolled into the air duct. Shepard glanced towards the barracks door, saw nobody, then resealed the grate.

As he stepped off the table he was standing on, his fingers brushed over the golden sun slashed with silver painted on the wall. One of these symbols hanged over the front door to Magnifique. Another was engraved onto the restaurant table, another embossed into Jefferson's tailored suit. The old man no doubt had his crest somewhere on his clothing when his house staff found him dead beneath his sheets. Natural causes, the news said.

_"He was a difficult target."_ Whitwell seemed to half-notice his presence, as usual. _"Constantly under guard, with a stubbornly loyal cadre of butlers and maids. But for most problems like him, enough credits can buy a solution."_

Meanwhile, Felicia Duran took most of the blame for the _Snake Fang_ 's disappearance and vanished from the weapons research world. Ryan Solomon never recovered from the shot he took, and Specialist Chan's reassignment to the _Cape Town_ put her in Sovereign's firing range at the Citadel. _Even if they survived, they didn't deserve whatever Whitwell would've planned for them._

Shepard passed by one of the bunks, giving an arm sprawled out from under it a nudge with his foot. He was almost out when the door opened.

"There you are," Liz said. "Keeping to yourself?"

It wasn't a lie. "Not much else for me to do."

"Then listen." She stepped past him into the barracks. "I've been thinking about what you said. About Scipio, and about the Reapers, too."

"Still think it's a conspiracy theory?"

"If you believe it, and if I still know you…"

After his death, was his first thought, but years had passed since N school. "I know visions from ancient alien tech aren't the best evidence. But I told you: I spoke to Sovereign. I even fought it. After Saren killed himself, Sovereign took control of the corpse. Ask any of my squad from back then. If I still had the footage, I'd show you."

"All right. At the very least, I believe that you believe it. But say you're right. What would you have everyone do?"

"Start preparing. I don't know much time we've wasted, but we can't afford to waste any more. We need defenses, backup communications, emergency shelters. Education on what the Reapers are, what they can do. And we need to cooperate with the other species. Batarians included."

"Their leaders might take that suggestion worse than Whitwell and my dad would."

"They might. But we have to try."

Liz put her hands on her hips, sighing and staring at the floor. "All right. I'll take your word for it." Her words weren't as relieving as he'd hoped.

_At least someone outside Anderson, Cerberus, and my crew does._ Another reason to make his next request.

"Listen, you need to leave," he said.

"I don't follow."

"Leave this base. Leave Elysium."

"Do you know something?"

"I'm _planning_ something. I don't want you to be here when it goes down."

"But…" She glanced away. "Whitwell's files. You've gotten rid of them. You have to have gotten rid of them." At Shepard's nodded, she shook her head. "Of course you did."

"If you still know me, you know what I can pull off. I'm giving you a chance to escape it."

"Why?"

_Because you're still a friend,_ he might have said. _Because I know you can be more than a terrorist. Because there's still time to do some real good._ But his friend embraced the terrorist role. Terrorism was the "real work" that the Alliance couldn't do. Real work, real good.

He looked for his best reason and found it. "Because you're not your dad."

"Obviously. I'm _here_ , not with his company."

"Following Whitwell. You're not her, either."

Liz stared at the door, crossing her arms. "I should stop you, you know. Some big N7 brawl, right in the middle of all the agents out there."

In Rio, fifty of their sparring bouts ended with her lying on the mat. Another fifty saw the opposite. After each one, the winner offered a hand to the loser. But since then, the _Snake Fang_ happened, and Eden Prime, and the Citadel, and Alchera most of all. Cerberus's implants tipped the balance.

_It's not all strength and speed._ And would the hand have a blade or a gun this time? _Do I still know you?_

"Would you?" he asked.

Elizabeth Yin dropped her hands to her sides. For a moment they made fists, then relaxed. "How long until it starts?"

"Two hours tops."

"I'll be gone before then."

Manipulation, blackmail. Shepard was using the same tactics Whitwell used on him, and the reminder left an aching loathing in his chest. Some of these people were former comrades and colleagues, one of them a friend. But they were criminals nonetheless. Terrorists in a lesser Cerberus, yet they'd reeled him in just as the Illusive Man had, with a chain that dug into his skin and dragged out things that should've remained buried. _"You need to trust me. I'll be done with this soon."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joker: And Kaidan (but let's be real, mostly Joker) ruined an agent's day. Meanwhile, though, Joker's surrounded by signs of Shepard everywhere, but Shepard's nowhere in sight…
> 
> Shepard: That ruthlessness. We saw that side of him early into "All Angles," not so much during "Blindside."


	18. Chapter 18

"If you shoot at me," Elizabeth Yin said, "you go against your boss's orders."

The YSS guard kept his pistol pointed at her. "And we have standing orders to shoot Scipio agents on sight."

"I understand." The skycar drive to Illyria's YSS office ranked among the most unsettling fifteen minutes of her life. She—hopefully—betrayed no hint of that. Her dad addressed his employees with the joviality of a favorite uncle, but the Alliance and Scipio instilled in her a cool authority. An officer had to look suited to her position.

She stared his sweaty face down, as if him pulling the trigger wasn't a remote possibility. "But I'm not here as a Scipio agent. You know about YSS Code Delta?"

He squinted at her. The muzzle of his pistol drooped. With his lips pressed together, he opened the door behind her and ushered her into the office proper. White walls, always white with Dad, caught the rich blue of the cloudless sky. _Guess it's nice to get some sun._ Scipio offered nothing but remote space stations and underground bunkers. Shadows.

"You should know," the guard said, taking her past the front desk. "We received Code Omega. The platoon's mobilizing."

"Just now?" On a shore leave spent at Terra Nova, the one that involved Balak and the asteroid, Dad went over all of his company's protocols. Code Omega was supposed to be enacted immediately after Samuel Yin's capture.

"Just now."

The go-ahead was delayed either accidentally or intentionally. Either way, Shepard had a surprise on his hands when whatever he had in store met with uninvited guests. _Unless…_ The timing couldn't have been a coincidence. Shepard's reveal, then YSS's reveal. _If so, it's all one big surprise, isn't it?_

"Carry on with prep. I'll need the CO's office to myself."

"Commander Alain is with the troops, anyways. I'll let him know. Past the war room, on the right."

The office was compact and tidy, a far cry from Dad's. To think that one shore leave was the first time she visited the estate, that between high school and the high stakes on the asteroid, Samuel Yin had erected that monstrosity from nothing. _Not from nothing. From things he hid from me all those years._

Elizabeth sat at the desk. With the push of a button, the blinds covered the windows. With another, she opened the computer. The username and password Dad gave her came easily to her fingers.

 _"After I'm gone,"_ Dad said, that shore leave, _"Log in and find my message. Once it's done, everything's yours."_ But this message was recent—more than just recent. It was recorded hours before the Scipio raid on the estate started. Elizabeth opened the file.

Her father appeared, sitting at his silly throne, with bits and pieces of his always-messy desk pressing into the video frame. _"Elizabeth. If I'm not dead already, I soon will be. I knew it was coming soon only a few days ago, and it threw all of my plans into disarray. I believe I adapted well enough, however._

_"Whitwell blew a hole in her own ship when she brought your old friend aboard. Since you're watching this, I'm assuming you chose not to sink with her. You're smarter than her. You know how to adapt._

_"Unlike me, in many ways. I know I failed to fill the hole your mother and brothers left in our family. I know I was… am… not the father you deserved after the attack. My company is a pittance compared to what I owe you, but at least I can offer you that."_ He chuckled. _"A whole army to protect my little girl, but it turns out that in a fight she's worth more than all my soldiers put together."_

Dad paused, looking away from the screen. He seemed to shrink then. The person in the video wasn't a wealthy businessman with a private army or an extremist responsible for the Omega bombing. He was a bitter old man, full of regrets. _Is this how you get my sympathy?_ Elizabeth thought. _I know who you are. This doesn't change it._

 _"You won't need them to defend you,"_ Dad said, collecting himself, _"but the companies in the know can serve as decent tools. There's a script embedded into this message. Run it when this is over, so you can do what needs to be done. For Mindoir. For your friends and classmates and teachers. For your mother, and for Jake, and for Peter."_

When the video closed, a file thumbnail remained. _Press it. This is what I came here for._

 _For Mom and Jake and Peter._ Mom had a seat on the colonial council. She brought Elizabeth and her brothers out to the farmland to visit the people she represented. While the farmers brought Mom their concerns and questions, their children brought hers baskets of fruit. Jake was the star of his school's baseball team, and dreamed of going pro. And Peter was Dad's shadow, swearing he'd grow up to join the police.

But they were dead, and had been for fifteen years. What did nuking batarian colonies mean to them now?

_For Mom and Jake and Peter, but not for you._

No. Not for any of them, not even for herself.

Elizabeth Yin tapped her finger against the file. Lines of commands raced by. _"Success: 2 seconds."_ Dad's files appeared in new folders: operations and protocols, contacts and reports. Everything. Her dad lied about many things, but not that.

After going over a few files, her first step was a call. "Commander Alain, this is Y-Monarch."

"Y-Monarch?" Alain glanced at another screen. "Code Delta… understood, ma'am."

"I know it's sudden. Take your time." Dad's callsign was every bit as obnoxious as his mansion, but Elizabeth needed as smooth a transition as possible. Some of the troops were no doubt expecting her to send them on a pointless suicide mission. She was part of Scipio, even now.

"Thank you, ma'am. Does this mean we're aborting Code Omega?"

"No. But I'll need twenty of your best for a special mission."

"Twenty?" A good chunk of his force, Elizabeth knew, and that complaint was written all over his face. Alain swallowed. "I'll pick them out and send them upstairs ASAP, ma'am."

"Good. Y-Monarch out."

Step two could've been calls to Caesar Station, or to the Scipio field agents wandering the streets of Illyria. Wrangling them, however, was the easiest task.

The next call window to appear above the desk displayed a feed of a batarian. His four eyes seemed sleepy at first, but a second glance of his wrinkled face revealed cunning sharper and more measured than five Balaks. "You." He wrinkled his nose. "If I recall correctly, you're one of Whitwell's top people. Why isn't she contacting me directly?"

 _"You're not your dad,"_ Shepard told her. Samuel Yin's goals weren't hers. They never would be.

Once again Elizabeth Yin put on her cold authority. "Change of plans, Lord Zora. Let me explain."

 

Kaidan parked the skycar in a lot at the heart of the Agron District. The establishment he was looking for was at the corner of the block, a simple, modern edifice with "Cafe Magna" hanging over the entrance.

"Garrus here." At the sound of the turian's voice Kaidan halted by the skycar. "I just took out the last Scipio field agent in our way. There was a YSS soldier with him. The agent might've been one of Yin's moles."

"They could be closing in, then," Kaidan said. "I'll keep my eyes open."

The coffee shop was far too small for the space it occupied, though the numerous fluffy leather couches and stained wood coffee tables did much to disguise that fact. The lady at the counter had finished charging an older man for his drink when Kaidan approached.

She was a well-trained actress, giving him no hint of recognition. "Welcome to Cafe Magna, what can I get for you?"

He took a moment to remember his line. "Two small lattes, extra shot on one. I'm waiting on a friend who works a graveyard shift, he'll need it. You remember Jeff's son, right?"

"Of course," she said, doing a convincing pantomime of ringing up the register. "That all?"

"Keycard to the restroom?"

She plucked it from underneath the counter and slid it over. He pocketed it, glancing at the number engraved in a corner. "Thanks."

"Your coffee will be here when you get back."

He walked to the side hallway, but passed by the restroom. Instead he stopped at the door at the very end, checked for witnesses. Seeing none, he swiped the card. Past the door was a long spiral staircase, and at the bottom was another door. Kaidan punched the code on the card into the console.

As he watched the floors count down, he pictured Miranda, Garrus, and Tali ripping through his Scipio squad. Tali's tech overloaded their shields, and a slug from Miranda's pistol caught him by the side. At first, Kaidan played dead. When they were gone, he set his medical exoskeleton to work. By the time it was over, the assault team had been extracted, and the police sirens grew louder. So Kaidan stood up, cloaked, and left in search of a way back.

Hopefully, he would tell it better than he imagined it.

The elevator stopped and opened. One last door awaited him on the opposite end of a tunnel, larger than the others, its console the fanciest of them all. Kaidan put his hand on one scanner and brought his eye to the other's level. Both flickered with light, then displayed their affirmatives.

"Thought you were dead," a voice said from the speakers. The last layer of security.

"You were almost right."

"And you're definitely late. We're on high alert and not taking any chances."

"But you also need everyone inside."

Nearly a half a minute passed before the massive locks slid away and the door split into several layers of interlocking panels to follow suit. A tightening corridor into the wide, two-level foyer lined with guards awaited him—a would-be deathtrap for an invading force. There was a back door, connected to the sewers, but it was smaller and only meant to be an exit.

The front entrance shut behind him as a Scipio agent approached. "So," he said, "What happened?"

"We were ordered to delay Shepard's squad. It didn't go well."

"You turned out luckier than Crafts and Warmack."

Kaidan clutched his side. "Stray slug. Had to play dead. By the time I was able to escape, the rest of the team was already extracted. I laid low while the authorities sorted through the estate, then booked a flight back to Elysium."

The agent gestured towards the central hallway. "Then suit up. The prisoner's army won't catch us by surprise, but we will have to fight them off, if and when they show."

Everyone he passed by seemed to be on edge. Kaidan started a mental tally. Hopefully he'd find the time and space to contact the others. The far end of the hallway came to a T-intersection. The left fork eventually led down to the interrogation room, the right fork to the back door.

From that distance, Shepard marched left to right through the light flow of traffic, putting a helmet on.

"You two should know that I'm enlisting Shepard in our operations," Whitwell had told Kaidan on Caesar Station.

"'Enlisting?'" Yin asked.

"He owes me a debt, and now is the best time for me to collect on it. I'm hoping your presences might ease him into working with us. Do either of you believe otherwise?"

"He'd react badly if he saw me here," Kaidan said. "Our last meeting… didn't go well. But whatever you plan on having him do, I'd like in on it, at least anonymously. Maybe showing myself after we're done would go better."

Whitwell nodded. "If you say so. You change your hardsuit ID, then I'll tell everyone not to mention your name."

He managed to keep his presence a secret through the missions on Omega and Terra Nova. Easy enough, he supposed, when Shepard had other things on his mind.

Kaidan entered the armory and emerged in a freshly fabricated black Scipio suit, a pistol on its belt. Even though the stolen state-of-the-art weave fit him perfectly, it felt rigid and confining. _Just for a little while longer._ Once the others busted in and started shooting, it wouldn't matter what he was wearing.

Scipio comms crackled to life. "Alenko," Whitwell said. "My office."

She was standing as he entered. "I'm pleased to see you survived Terra Nova. You've been a valuable agent, and I would like for you to continue your contributions."

There was a "but" soon to follow. "Thank you, ma'am."

"However."

_Close enough._

Whitwell narrowed her eyes at him. "I have concerns. No, there's no need to explain your absence or your return. The truth is easy enough to piece together." She began a casual pace behind her desk. "I had Command direct your squad towards Shepard's as a test. As it turns out, your squad was KIA and you disappeared. Tell me, what conclusions are to be drawn from that?"

 _Try to explain or stay quiet?_ The former seemed pointless, and Kaidan was tired of acting.

"And now you resurface at this critical juncture, with Samuel Yin's distraction almost done away with. For what purpose?" Whitwell shook her head. "Suffice to say, you failed your test. You, the willing one, while Shepard ironically passed his."

"Nothing I say will convince you I haven't betrayed you," Kaidan said. "So what happens now?"

"You take on a new role: collateral. To ensure Shepard doesn't—"

The base shook and rumbled. Whitwell paused, eyes darting.

Alarms blared. _The others?_

But the office door opened, and a Scipio agent rushed in. Distant gunfire rattled. "Ma'am, it's YSS. They've blown a hole in the wall and they're pouring in."

"A hole in the wall?" Whitwell eyed Kaidan for a moment. "How was this unnoticed?"

"I don't know. The Cronus Hill post reported nothing."

 _That's because it's ours. This base is about to see a three-way battle._ Kaidan wasn't one to gloat, however.

Whitwell started towards the door. "A surprise attack does not make a victory. We retain the defender's advantage." She motioned for the agent to follow her, but glanced a different direction and nodded.

The door closed behind her as she left.

Kaidan didn't wait for any ripples in the air or clicking of omni-tools. He gathered his barrier and slammed his fist into the floor. A shockwave of dark energy flared in every direction. Accompanying biotic thrum were solid impacts, armor against metal, one on each side of the office.

He rose, unclipped his pistol, and fired four times. The cloaks melted away. Kaidan paid the corpses no mind.

Outside, an explosion tore through the middle of the central hallway. YSS soldiers darted through the smoke and fire, spraying rifle fire. Scipio agents took cover in doorways, behind debris, in their tactical cloaks, but their enemy had the firepower and the numbers. Meter by meter they retreated. Meter by meter, Yin's army pressed towards the office, towards the fork, towards the interrogation room.

Gunfire erupted in another direction. _The rear entrance._

Kaidan, wishing this suit had stealth tech, broke into a run out of Whitwell's office. The chaos melted away into crystal clarity. _Yin's people made this easy for us. We clean up, make sure Whitwell and Yin are dead or arrested, and grab Shepard._

Not much longer now.


	19. Chapter 19

"The sewer escape has been breached," an agent said. "Someone opened it."

_Obviously._ Whitwell ordered her people to focus on barring passage to Samuel Yin. That left the other half of Paradise unprotected. But the interrogation room and holding cells were once Louis Jefferson's final redoubt, and the base's layout reflected that with choke points all the way there. A second front mattered little. The air trembled with more explosions, already unsettled by ever-present gun fire, but for now Whitwell and her escort of operatives moved through clear hallways.

The real question: did YSS spread out that quickly, or did a Scipio agent turn against her? The younger Yin _had_ disappeared not too long before her father's army arrived.

Whitwell opened her omni-tool. Direct communications went against her own protocols for Paradise, but the listening post already failed spectacularly. "Where are you?" she asked when the call went through.

Elizabeth Yin appeared to be aboard some shuttle. "Away from Elysium. Let me guess: the counterattack's come?"

"Is that an admission, Yin?"

"Of what?" She had never been this snide, not towards Whitwell. "You should be thanking me. I diverted a good number of my soldiers from Paradise."

"Your soldiers? Not your father's?"

"You're missing the point. You and my dad wasted so much effort against each other, when you could've been working together against the common enemy."

"Have you forgotten what became of our cooperation? Samuel Yin refused to set aside his personal grudges. He still does."

"You refused to compromise. Luckily, _I'm_ that compromise. Your field agents on Elysium and the leftovers at Caesar are joining me, too. I'm saving them from your fate."

"You don't have that authority."

"Now I do. You're about to die, ma'am. Not because of Yin Security Services, not because of my dad. Not because of me. Because of _Shepard_."

"Explain yourself."

"Goodbye, ma'am. I'll pick up where you left off." Elizabeth Yin cut the call.

_The gall._ YSS launched a single assault, a _telegraphed_ assault, despite the lack of warning. One attack, and Elizabeth Yin deemed Whitwell a lost cause and sought to snatch Scipio away from her. _I created Scipio to finish what the Alliance started right here at Elysium. I defied the Alliance—and the Council itself—again and again._

First Alenko, now the younger Yin. When YSS was repelled, Whitwell had much to clean up.

But what did Elizabeth Yin mean about Shepard? Whitwell held his leash… _His leash._ She went to her personal files.

The _Snake Fang_ after-action report was gone. She looked at all her backup locations. Gone as well.

Her jaw clenched, Whitwell reached into her coat and slipped a holdout pistol from an inner pocket. She brushed past her escort. _This is not over. Not while I hold the enemy's objective._

For every one of Yin's soldiers that Kaidan took down, another took their place. But in the narrow corridors of Paradise, that advantage mattered little. A ceiling-mounted auto-turret tore into YSS's advance. From behind a makeshift barricade of crates and wreckage, Scipio agents added their own gunfire. A grenade flew from the YSS back line. A biotic field caught it in mid-air. With a dismissive gesture, the Scipio biotic flung it back.

Kaidan stepped back into the cover of the hallway corner. This was the last position he had to check, but Whitwell evidently hadn't ordered Shepard to aid in the defense. _He could be flanking them, or cutting off their escape, or going after their commander._ Those tasks better suited him.

Or he had the same idea as Kaidan: clean up while they're distracted. Whitwell and Samuel Yin in the same place at the same time, both of their forces occupied with each other… Kaidan joined this barricade's defense for the last hurrah of appearances' sake, but now he raced away from the fighting.

In the second-to-last hallway before the stairs down, Shepard strolled casually by three dead agents.

Kaidan called his name.

Shepard spun around. Kaidan had never seen a dumbstruck look on his face before. "What are you… never mind." Shepard stepped towards him and took him aside. "You have thirty seconds to seal up. I'm gassing the place."

"What?" But like an old habit Kaidan wrangled his helmet on. Even after everything, Shepard still had that effect.

"Is anyone else here?"

"Just me." _For now,_ he almost added.

"Then find some place to lie low until I find you. I'm ending this."

As Shepard marched around a corner, Kaidan snapped his seals into place. He double-checked their integrity. Triple-checked. When he found an empty room he ducked inside.

_Did you plan this?_ It seemed so unlikely. How did Shepard know YSS would get inside the base? How did he know they would fight Scipio to a standstill? But the timing worked too well. And the gas… if he meant the nerve gas Scipio stole from STG, then he would've had to plant the cylinders in advance.

_The soldiers are the distraction, but all of them are his targets._

"Alenko here," he said into the squad's comms. "Turns out the base's defenses are preoccupied. YSS is attacking the base. Status?"

"We're almost at the sewer entrance," Miranda said.

"You'd better seal up before coming inside. It's about to get ugly."

A snap-hiss came from the room's vent.

 

Samuel Yin, with his wrists and ankles shackled to the chair, seemed every bit as threatening as a corpse. He put up no resistance when Whitwell's guard brought him out of his cell, and not out of any demureness or defeat, or some attempt at saving his own dignity. As the walls of the interrogation room muffled an explosion, he chuckled.

"It should be obvious that you aren't getting rescued," Whitwell said, keeping her sidearm pointed at his head.

Again, he laughed.

_Perhaps the confinement is driving him mad._ That was a vain hope. Still Yin clung to some fragment of hope.

"And if by some miracle they pry you from my grasp, they aren't your soldiers anymore. Your daughter appears to have seized command of them."

"Of course. My wife and I didn't raise a moron."

"Nor did you raise someone with any real fondness for her father. Perhaps she'll have her men lock you away, or even turn you in. She and I are not the only ones you have to answer to."

"Definitely not," he said, as if he had someone in mind.

Comms chirped in her earpiece. "Ma'am," an agent said. "We've lost contact with sixty percent of our defending personnel."

Whitwell stepped aside. "What?"

"There are also reports from the remaining forty. Someone used the nerve gas on us. A lot of it. It's spread throughout the main level."

Anyone not properly sealed would be trashing on the floor, gasping for air, and burning from the inside out. The sounds of battle seemed fainter now. Had it always been like that since she came down? _Someone is responsible for this._

"You're wasting your time," Samuel Yin said.

His smugness had worn thin. "You seem so certain of that."

"Because I am. You're not going to shoot me. And the Yin Securities soldiers—whom I previously ordered _not_ to come to my rescue—likely won't make it down to this room." Yin smirked. "Well played, Shepard. Well played."

Whitwell became very still. _He caused all this?_

"The ticking time bomb has finally gone off," Samuel Yin said.

The distraction and the true trap. The commander's name was like the last piece of a puzzle, and all at once his plan lay before her, far too late. Even if sixty percent of YSS's force died breathing the gas, their forty percent was still larger than Scipio's. Whitwell gazed at the door, at the two Scipio agents standing guard. _The last, or they soon will be._

Anna Whitwell had been outplayed. By Shepard, who failed to understand the need for Scipio. By Elizabeth, who knew what was coming and chose to flee rather than stop it.

But the gas wasn't the end. That realization hit the hardest.

Shepard was on his way here.

Whitwell put away her gun.

"See?" Yin asked. "Threatening me was unnecessary anyways."

"The circumstances have changed. You are now under my protection." Shepard's report concerned itself with only the facts, but Whitwell knew why the _Snake Fang_ mission ended the way it did. That reason let her leash him in the first place. She had to do it again.

The irony almost made her laugh.

Samuel Yin shook his head. "Resign yourself to failure, then. I, for one, welcome the inevitable."

 

Until it was done, Shepard knew, distractions were invitations to failure. Of all people, Kaidan had to be one of them.

But he was there, like he knew the place, in a black Scipio hardsuit. A willing collaborator? No, he was adamant about staying away from Cerberus on Horizon. A spy, then—a very unlikely one, and a better one than Shepard might've pegged him for. _"He's on a secret mission,"_ Anderson always replied when Shepard asked. If the Alliance knew about Scipio this whole time, did they know…?

At the gas canisters' detonations, he set that train of thought aside. _"I'll be done with this soon,"_ he said to Joker, and now that "soon" had shrunk to a few minutes. His pace was calm, almost leisurely. Meanwhile his heartbeat swelled into a rush as the invisible wave crept through the base. Most of the gunfire ceased, replaced by the clattering of guns hitting the floor. Unsuited Scipio and YSS troops alike fell over, gasping for air and clawing at their throats. Those left standing stopped and stared at the writhing bodies at their feet.

A hand brushed against his ankle. It would've grasped if it had the strength. Dion's face stared up at him, his lips quivering, but no pleas escaped. Shepard moved on.

His boots made no sound against the metal stairs. At the bottom two guards stood watch outside the interrogation room.

"Whitwell and the prisoner are inside?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." There was a wariness in the speaker's voice.

"Good." In his next step forward he stabbed his omni-blade into the left guard's chest. Stunned, the second one made an easy target for a pistol headshot. Both bodies fell at the same time as Shepard cracked the door's lock.

Unlike the last time he visited, bright white light filled both observation and interrogation halves. Yin, shackled to a chair in the latter, was the image of calm. Whitwell, standing in the former and hurrying to intercept Shepard, was anything but. This time, however, they weren't his puppet masters or his blackmailers. Yin and Whitwell were Shepard's targets.

His first shot shattered the window into a thousand pieces.

"Shepard," Whitwell said. "Here to finalize your revenge?"

"You two are terrorists. Not the first I've taken down."

"You've beaten us, I understand that. But as it stands, what threat could an old woman and a restrained captive pose to you? There's no need to kill us here."

"'Us?'"

Whitwell pursed her lips. "Samuel Yin could offer worthwhile testimony against me, and I against him. If I must spend the rest of my life in prison, I will, as long as he suffers that sentence with me. Death would be too good for him."

A laugh both mocking and joyous came from the other side of the broken glass. "And you say I'm transparent," Yin said.

A fair trial and a prison sentence. A loyal Alliance officer would make that offer, not the wildcard Spectre the Council and brass thought he was. He'd bring them in alive, and the Alliance could make a public show of justice to pacify the Hegemony. When the Reapers came, he needed every string he could get to make the two governments cooperate.

But the _Snake Fang_ would remain. The Alliance wouldn't listen to Yin, but the word of a former Admiral, once respected and decorated…

Shepard raised his gun at Whitwell. "You're not getting off that easily."

"Shepard, you must not kill Yin." That admission was heavy with desperation. Whitwell put herself between Shepard and Yin. "If you do—"

"Have some dignity," Yin said. "And let Shepard reclaim his."

"No." Whitwell stared at Shepard's gun. She took one step forward, hands rising. "No, don't! He has—"

The shot went straight through her head. Her body fell to its knees, then onto its side. Blood pooled on the floor.

"Good riddance," Samuel Yin said, but he'd never looked so solemn.

Shepard approached the broken window. "I'm not done yet."

"Of course not." The elder Yin faced the muzzle of Shepard's gun as if it wasn't there. "Let's not hide behind pretense. Killing her was revenge for these past few days. Killing me is revenge for five years ago."

The red planet and the gunshot.

"I've known this moment was coming for quite some time," Yin said. "Unlike our fallen friend here, I realized very quickly that the second you got involved, my chances of surviving this became next to nothing."

"You didn't have to do anything. You didn't have to bring my team into this."

"Didn't I? It seemed so fitting. Whitwell using you as her capped pawn, me playing with your people, that game of chess was too tempting to pass up. And look what became of it. Scipio in ruins, Whitwell dead, her designs dashed. The cost? Less than two hundred of my soldiers—a decent chunk of my army, but not a huge loss. A few buildings on Omega, which was a steaming cesspool, anyways. And a great many batarians. Which really is more a gain than a cost."

"And you."

Yin chuckled. "Yes. And me. Can you at least assure a man that his daughter's still alive?"

"You don't deserve that."

This shot was easier. Samuel Yin snapped backwards at the slug's impact, then slumped.

Shepard stepped back. One corpse lay on the floor, the other remained seated. Both had glassy looks on their faces, staring into an infinite nothing. _It's done._ But it didn't feel that way. Returning to the _Normandy_ would be more complicated than he planned. How much would he have to explain? How much would his crew understand? _"You lied to us,"_ but there was no other way.

Then there was Kaidan, the immediate concern. After staring at the bodies of Anna Whitwell and Samuel Yin for a few more moments, Shepard turned around and left.

Kaidan knew to find him at the base, but the opposite wasn't true. Did he know about the missions to Omega and the Yin Estate? A dozen silent, helmeted Scipio agents accompanied Shepard in both cases. Kaidan could've been one of them. He could've reported them to the Alliance.

He could've learned about the _Snake Fang_ , but Shepard refused to entertain that thought.

Shepard reached the top of the stairway. Kaidan was walking towards him from the other end of the hallway—along with Miranda, and Garrus, and Jack and Kasumi and Tali.

" _Now_ you're coming back with us," Miranda said. The others fanned out beside her. "There's nowhere left to run."

Flashbang and damping grenades. Maybe a neural shock. That first instinct would only make things worse. When he learned that Yin had "enlisted" his squad's help, he told Whitwell not to lay a finger on them. Shepard wasn't about to stoop _below_ her level.

"Don't make this difficult," Garrus said.

_I wanted to return on my terms._ But the path behind him led only down to the two corpses. He looked at each of his squad members in turn. He thought of Joker.

Miranda put two fingertips to the side of her helmet. "What is it?" In the pause, her brow furrowed behind her helmet visor. _"What?"_

"What's going on?" Shepard asked.

"The nukes Yin stole from Scipio." Her voice carried all the gravity her helmet obscured. "One of them may have gone off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yin: A brief eulogy for this meta asshole. He's keenly aware of how this story works—now that the heroes got involved, his days were numbered. So he spends these last few days fucking with everyone: getting the Normandy crew involved, forcing the confrontation at his estate, mocking Scipio by hijacking their plans for Omega, and verbally sparring with Whitwell. He faces the void with a smile and a confident assertion. Of course, plans don't always unfold to perfection.
> 
> Shepard: He should never ever go full evil. I don't think the galaxy could handle him.
> 
> Next: Part 3 begins! Reunions! Revelations! Reckonings!


	20. Chapter 20

**PART III: CARTHAGE**

Shepard took her words like a slap in the face. He stared blankly for one moment, then another. "'May.'" He spoke in a low half-whisper. "It 'may' have gone off."

Around him and around the squad, faint wisps of smoke traced gray curls through the air. Yin soldiers and Scipio agents alike lay in limp heaps. Some had gunshot wounds. Others were more intact, but the nerve gas had frozen their faces in agony. A vicious but efficient execution, Miranda had to appreciate the elegance of Shepard's plan. The corpses in this tomb deserved their fate with all its irony.

"You're sure?" Miranda Lawson asked in comms, patching it through her omni-tool so Shepard could hear.

"The tracer suddenly went dead two minutes ago," Joker said. "Let me see if there's anything on Terminus news."

"No need," Veshan said. "I see disaster reports all over our emergency feeds. Our colony at Alesh'khal… something about a massive explosion at its capital city…"

But the dead here numbered less than two hundred. On the other side of the galaxy, thousands were incinerated in an instant. Thousands more weren't as lucky. Miranda overestimated Samuel Yin's importance, because finding Shepard outweighed the risk of letting Yin have the nukes.

Meanwhile Shepard had gone completely still, eyes pointed towards the floor.

"Only Alesh'khal?" Miranda asked. Veshan mentioned five colonies before.

"The others are sending bomb warnings, but nothing else."

"But you gave Alesh'khal the same notice," Tali said.

"Any number of reasons might've stopped the police from getting to the nuke in time," Veshan said, then sighed. "At least Alesh'khal was the least populated. What little good that does."

"There's a reason Alesh'khal was the least populated," Shepard said. "I'll explain when we get back to the _Normandy_."

"So you're coming back with us?" Tali asked.

Shepard looked behind him. The door held his gaze. "I don't have any choice. And…" He started off, passing between Kaidan and Garrus. "I think you've waited long enough for me to talk."

 

A day later, Shepard stepped through the inner airlock onto the bridge of the _Normandy_ , most of his squad filing past him. If they looked at him, he didn't see, nor did he want to. One of the crew asked something. It must've been Hadley, and it must've been the obvious question.

Joker and a few others had remained on the _En Passant_ to pack up. Meanwhile, the _Normandy's_ flight instruments remained locked behind an array of red haptic windows. _"Victor."_ They hadn't shared a word on the flight from Elysium to the Citadel.

"I'll provide a full explanation shortly," he said, half-mumbled. He was doing an impression of Commander Shepard, and a half-hearted one at that, but it was all he could muster.

"So this is it," someone said.

Shepard glanced aside. Kaidan had paused by the airlock, looking left towards the cockpit and right down the bridge. He took a cautious step forward. "Cerberus's take on the _Normandy_."

Veshan brushed past him, ignoring the curious stares of the ex-Cerberus crew. "Fancy ship."

"Thought you'd be more eager to get back to your people," Kaidan said.

"I'll return to Khar'shan with a full report. Nothing less."

Once Shepard told the story of the Snake Fang, both the Alliance and the Hegemony would get their hands on it. He let it get to this point, he told himself.

 _One thing at a time._ "Ask Joker for a tour," Shepard said, then made a beeline for the elevator.

When he entered the medbay, Chakwas stood up. "Commander, you're all right."

He tensed at the relief in her voice. "Miranda told me she put you in charge while the squad was gone. How were things here?"

"Uneasy," she said. "A few more left two days ago. Staying patient has been too difficult for some."

The bridge did seem emptier. "They won't have to wait much longer."

He walked over to AI core, darkened of his own doing. Sighing, he approached EDI's console and entered his code. The hardware lit up in a cascade of faint blues and yellows. The whirring of hardware filled the AI core. Moments later, the projection platform buzzed to life, and the avatar appeared on its perch.

"Reactivation complete. Hello, Commander."

"EDI. It's good to see you." He paused, frowning. "Do you know what happened?"

"There is a shutdown command in my logs. Your emergency codes were used."

 _Of course she would._ Thankfully, EDI carried no tone of disapproval or judgment. _Yet._ "When Joker and the others come aboard, call the crew to the CIC."

 

The last time Shepard addressed them from his platform in the CIC, he congratulated them on a job well-done: the Collectors' base was destroyed, and countless colonists were spared the fate lurking at its heart. This time, whether they realized it or not, the crew members of the _Normandy_ were the interrogator at the other side of the table.

Shepard's hands were glued to the railing. _They're waiting._

"I appreciate your patience, all of you. I put you in a confusing and frustrating situation, and I know you deserve an explanation.

"Two weeks ago, I was contacted by Anna Whitwell, one of my former commanding officers in the Alliance. After her resignation, she established a terrorist organization called Scipio to attack the Batarian Hegemony. And she wanted my help. To secure it, she pulled a secret mission—a failed mission—out from her personal records for blackmail." He paused, looking out at everyone gathered. The regular crew seemed puzzled, but the squad already knew this.

More moments than he realized had passed in that silence. It was the first time he'd be saying the mission details aloud. "Five years ago, Whitwell sent me on a mission to locate the missing MSV _Snake Fang_ and its cargo of eight experimental Javelins. I picked up the freighter's trail and followed it to the batarian colony at Alesh'khal."

 

 _"Species: Mixed, predominantly batarian, notable percentages of elcor, turian, and asari, negligible hanar and human presence."_ Lieutenant Shepard glanced up from the datafile's window to the actual window of the cockpit, past it to the red planet lurking at the bottom of the view. Cast in night, there was a faint splatter of glittering orange and gold in the upper hemisphere. _"Colony Founded: 2091 CE. Population: 1.2 million. Capital: Thashaar."_

There was a chuckle from the shuttle pilot's seat. "We've done the research," Curt Weisman said. "You could just ask."

Shepard didn't, scrolling down to the article proper. Alesh'khal lay at the edge of the Terminus Systems, one of the few batarian colonies left outside batarian space itself. That meant the Hegemony held onto it with a vice grip. Though mercenaries and pirates poked at its fingers every day, the government turned that to their advantage. Every body on the planet, batarian or not, was a plus-one to the population records.

"What, our word's not good enough for you?" Weisman asked. "Fine, whatever. The _Fang_ 's docked at Kalarath Station in orbit. Might wanna hide anything that says you're Alliance."

"Already took care of that."

"Still the smart one."

The shuttle sped towards a dark shape emerging from the blackness. Years of cannibalizing had evidently turned a standard space station into a massive hulk, with myriad mismatched components and modules grafted to the original structure. His objective was in one of its docking bays.

"All right," Shepard said. "Why'd you bring the ship here?"

Weisman shrugged. "'Do this, do that,' is only thing Ares ever tells us."

When he was the Old Man, the leader of the Tenth Street Reds liked his monologues and his elaborate plans. Maybe prison changed him, or maybe this was too important to let anything slip. Shepard looked again at Alesh'khal and at the hint of its cityscape. A ship with prototype weapons, a batarian colony. _A sale?_ His jaw clenched at the chill in his gut.

Kalarath was just as hodge-podge on the inside. Weisman didn't dare admit it, but he nearly got lost navigating the labyrinth three times. They passed by squads of armored mercenaries, groups of well-dressed civilians, even beggars, reduced to pleading for passage to the colony. Shepard made sure not to look at one cluster or individual for too long. Alesh'khal and its main orbital station were two of the worst places for an Alliance soldier rolled into one, and at least one of those people had both his identity committed to memory and the daring to act on that knowledge. Weisman seemed on the same page, all focus and caution despite his blundering.

With the station this crowded, Shepard realized, the _Snake Fang_ couldn't have gone unnoticed. The batarians could've inspected her cargo, made demands. He almost asked Weisman, but the answer came when the question was on the tip of his tongue. This was still the Terminus Systems. Enough credits drew prying eyes away from anything. _If their backer was as big as Weisman said, hiding was more than possible here._

Eventually Weisman stopped before a large door. He punched a code into the console, opening up a docking arm. A name, the one he'd hoped for, was painted onto the airlock at the other end. "We're here."

There was an end in sight, though the airlock. He'd catch up with the Old Man—Ares—then deal with him and others. He'd contact Admiral Whitwell, say "Mission Accomplished," and get the _Snake Fang_ and its cargo to Terra Nova.

"Finally," Shepard said.

"Hey, you try navigating this freak show circus." Weisman started crossing.

Shepard followed, eager to cut ties for good this time.

He had to blink and let his eyes adjust when he stepped aboard the freighter _._ The polished white bulkheads and deck caught and magnified the harsh light, and carried his shadow in crisp detail. One look up and down the entrance: definitely Kowloon-class.

"Should be with the missiles," Weisman said.

As they made their way there, they passed two Reds guarding the door to the drive core room. Then the ship rumbled. Movement.

"Where are we headed?" Shepard asked, only to get a shrug.

Two more stood at the cargo hold entrance. Weisman stepped aside. Past them, long, massive containers covered the walls of the wide hold, four to a side, each with the Kobayashi Arms logo. But their contents were laid across the deck, neat like a row of coffins _._ Two lines of Reds formed an aisle from the door to the center. He recognized some faces, but most were strangers.

The man waiting at the end of the mock procession, however, was not.

"Vic." Daelan Ares held out his hand as Shepard approached. Nine years had passed, but the Old Man in front of him had stepped out of that night at the city councilman's house. His skin was still the same silver beneath bronze, taut over muscle. Still that half-smile, pretending friendliness.

Shepard stared up at him. He didn't take the handshake. "It's 'Lieutenant' now."

"Fair enough. I stop using my title, you get yours." Ares relaxed his arm, then looked past him. "If I said you could leave now, go. The rest of you to your spots."

Like soldiers, half of the other Reds filed out of the room. The rest dispersed around the hold, guns on their belts.

"Weisman wasn't lying when he said things have changed," Shepard said.

"Not just for us, Hero of Elysium." There was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Most of the Tenth Street Reds thought you'd end up feeding the fish. Looks like I was right in the end."

"You didn't bring me here for this."

"And you're not here to chat." Ares stepped back, then turned on his heel. He took slow deliberate steps down the array of bone-white missiles. Ares regarded each with fondness. "Easiest thing, taking this ship. I bet the people you talked to at Doru didn't know this ship's pilot was a Red. And I bet they didn't know that these missiles weren't meant for the Alliance. They were meant for me."

"The hell are you talking about?"

"Their real purpose. See, when I watched you get your Star of Terra on the news, I was proud as the rest of them. But there was one thing. After the Blitz, after all those colonies that got sacked, the biggest thing the Alliance ever did was that raid on Torfan. They won that battle, but that was all. Should've been more.

"I always wanted us to be bigger than just a street gang, fighting over turf. But I never had a purpose in mind—a cause, a rallying cry—until that news vid. So now I'm doing the 'more' for you. These missiles? They're a gift to the Batarian Hegemony."

_Too big for a sale._

Ares grinned. With a wave of his omni-tool, indicators lit up along each missile. "A very loud and very bright gift, right at the heart of the city below us."

"No way in hell." Shepard drew his pistol. Clicks from all around as the other Reds followed suit and trained on him.

Ares waved them off. "Think about it. You're a smart kid. If we don't start hitting back, they won't stop. How many Blitzes are you gonna have to fight? How many Elysiums won't have you to protect them?"

"You're talking terrorism."

"It's war, Lieutenant. The Reds and I? We're soldiers, just like you. And I'm a simple patriot."

"Bull. Shit."

"Did your morals keep the batarians and the pirates from taking Elysium?"

"They make me better than them. And you."

Realization hit Ares's scarred face, and the corners of his mouth curled up further. "Huh. All right, Lieutenant. Stop me. Save the batarians on that shithole planet."

He would oblige him, Shepard decided. Once Ares was down the Reds would open fire on him, but even his small personal shield would let him find cover. He raised his pistol, aimed. Ares gestured. But just before Shepard could pull the trigger, the gun sparked. In the corner of his eye, a Red had her omni-tool out.

"Your gun only gets one shot before it overheats for five minutes," Ares said. "More than enough time for this ship's course to be permanently set. Better make it count."

Behind him, Reds blocked the rear door. And the drive core was guarded, too. The front door, to the forward modules and the cockpit, was another story. _Prepared something_ , Shepard noted, but Ares had left him with little choice.

He darted for that door. The Reds did nothing. _Get to the cockpit, take out the pilot, seal the cockpit, and stop the ship._ He got through, broke into a sprint down the empty hallway. _Then open the airlocks._ The door at the end was in his sights. When he got there, he ignored his instincts' warning and hit the console.

The pilot wasn't seated. Instead, he had his arm around a young man's neck and a gun to the side of his head.

A younger version of the hostage's face belonged to the kid who sneaked a knife into the Old Man's meeting with the city councilor. The kid who cut the ropes while only Victor watched. Who stabbed the Old Man and tried making a break for it. Victor's first shot missed, but the second sent him tumbling across the pavement, face-down, cast in a sickly yellow beneath the streetlight.

"Recognize each other?" Ares asked as he walked down the corridor.

The hostage's eyes widened, but he said nothing.

"What's your game?" Shepard asked.

Ares stopped halfway through. "When I heard you were tailing us, I got curious about the new you. I went digging. The kid you shot survived. He's following in his dad's footsteps, working for a 'better Brooklyn.' So I wanna see how much Red's left in you. To save the colony, you're gonna have to finish the job."

The pilot nudged the hostage with the muzzle.

"What's it gonna be, Lieutenant?" Ares asked. "Time's wasting."

Shepard pictured shooting the pilot. The hostage would die, too. But Ares wouldn't get to the cockpit before Shepard closed it up. One innocent life here was worth saving thousands on Alesh'khal. The math was that simple.

He raised his gun. The pilot stared at him, tense but determined.

_Kill him. Stop the attack._

Nine years ago there was only a moment of hesitation. The first shot missed, the second didn't.

_Stop the attack._

Nine years ago there was no screaming, no squirming, just a small lump at the edge of the light. Y _ou're gonna have to finish the job. How much Red's left in you?_

 _Stop the attack,_ Shepard told himself. Pull the trigger, close the door, take over the ship.

Nine years ago, he was just a thug. Then the bad deal at the harbor happened, and he ran away and enlisted. He went through training and the test at its end. He fought at Elysium and earned his Star of Terra. He arrived at the Villa and left as an N7 officer.

_Stop the attack._

_Finish the job._

The _Snake Fang_ 's flight instruments pinged. Smirking, the pilot shoved his hostage away.

"Better than us after all," Ares said. "You were right. So was I."

Shepard lowered his gun, a heavy weight in his hand. It slipped from his fingers and hit the ground. The clattering was the loudest thing he'd ever heard. Thousands versus one, and that one was enough.

"Let's get out of here," Ares said. "That goes for you, too, Lieutenant."

He should've stayed and died with what he failed to stop, what he let happen. But almost of its own will, his body forced him along—not before he picked up his pistol. There was a bright glint of triumph in Ares's eyes as he watched the Reds swarm the escape pod module.

When they were the last two aboard, Ares opened the last pod and gestured inside. Shepard dragged himself in. Ares sat across from him and pulled the harness over his chest. A rumble and a roar. The view outside the tiny window shifted with a rush, and they left the _Snake Fang_ and Alesh'khal to their fates.

Ares entered something into the console. The pod adjusted course. "You made the right choice. This was a long time coming."

The _Snake Fang_ 's thrusters flared bright blue as it descended into the red planet's atmosphere. Maybe the colony's defenses could catch it. There had to be anti-air cannons, and Kowloons weren't built for surviving shots. But that was a vain hope.

Shepard found his voice. "You said wanted to do more?"

"Wanted to." There was a hint of knowing there, or baiting. Ares's eyes flicked towards Shepard's hand.

It was thousands versus one in the freighter's cockpit. Here, Shepard pointed and added one to the count. The close quarters made the bang drown out the clattering. The harness held the limp body from falling over.

Shepard sighed and put the gun away. Though he didn't want to, he forced himself to look out the window as the _Snake Fang_ faded away, racing towards its fate.

 

"Seventy-seven thousand, five hundred and eighty-four," Shepard said. "That's how many people died when the _Snake Fang_ hit the capital city."

Horror, confusion, surprise. With the tale concluded, the CIC fell into the hum of engines, pings from stations, and the creaking of bulkheads. Nobody even dared whisper.

A freighter, a red planet, and a gunshot. The _Snake Fang_ and Alesh'khal. The shot he didn't take and the one he did. Just a few more details, Shepard decided. Maybe they deserved that much. "Whitwell covered it up. The _Snake Fang_ disappeared from all records. She kept my report to herself to save my reputation. The batarians blamed human radicals. They were right, but they never found out I was involved. I learned from Scipio that Samuel Yin was the one funding the Reds. He also bought off colony officials and made them lower the defenses.

"Well, that's that. The disaster I let happen." Five years later, with the timing of the nuke's explosion, with Whitwell's insistence on keeping Yin alive… the shot he took without hesitation finished the job.

The crew shifted with heavy footsteps. "You…" Jack burst into the forefront, furious and disgusted. "Are full of _shit_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alesh'khal: Erm, did I just wreck the setting of "Chessboard"'s climax? Yes. Only for a new one to take its place.
> 
> And there it is. The complete story.
> 
> The core of the deal with Shepard, at least in the flashbacks, isn't just being the Hero of Elysium. It's the contrast between the Hero of Elysium and another member of the Tenth Street Reds. Celebrated soldier and forgotten street rat. He crossed that difference and fell in love with what it made him.
> 
> There was a warning shot when Shepard turned down Jefferson at the restaurant. Perhaps his decision there was more sound, but still, he turned down a chance to progress the mission—for personal reasons first, pragmatic reasons second.
> 
> Ares suspects something like this, from watching Shepard on the vids. So, being a theatrical, manipulative bastard, he uses Shepard's self-conception not just to make the attack on Alesh'khal a success, but also to make Shepard complicit.
> 
> Years later, Whitwell does something similar, exploiting Shepard's guilt—and his unrelenting drive not just to improve, but his drive to self-validate said improvement—to make him complicit in her schemes as well. But this time, Shepard has a very, very, very determined crew.


	21. Chapter 21

Miranda started. "Jack—"

"You just love playing shrink with everyone: Jacob and the cheerleader with their daddy issues, Garrus with his traitor, Thane and Samara with their fucked-up kids. 'Let go of the past,' all that bullshit. But look at you, running and hiding when _your_ fuck-up comes calling."

"Shepard's made questionable decisions," Miranda said, "nobody's denying that. But you will not—"

"Shut up!" Jack spun around to face the crew. "You know what I think? He's a liar who can't walk his own talk." With that she fell silent, breathing heavily.

Jack's anger was Shepard's resolve. With a blank face he leveled his gaze at her. "Are you done?"

"Yeah. I'm done." The crew parted for her, and she crossed the bridge. The airlock opened. Without hesitation she stepped through, and out.

His jaw had been clenched for Jack's entire walk. Shepard took a deep breath and the first step down the platform. "Crew dismissed."

 

For a moment Garrus found himself missing the galactic core. As the _Normandy_ engaged the Collector cruiser, he darted from console to console, keeping the cannon primed and calibrated. There was a purpose, a target. Focus. Here the adjustments came minutes apart, and though his eyes were on the screens and displays his thoughts were on Saleon and Sidonis. On Shepard and his _Snake Fang._

Captain Aydreus was the commanding officer aboard the _Taetrus_. When his shady past came to light, Garrus sent a report to High Command. At C-Sec, he brought Lieutenant Kala's history of bribes to Captain Orom. Kala's confession led to several arrests.

The _Snake Fang_ was different. A single life to save countless more was a necessary sacrifice. The greater good.

Years ago, Garrus might've seen it that way with certainty. The hostage in Shepard's story was Saleon's escape shuttle. Had Pallin stayed quiet, that shuttle would've been debris. His later test subjects wouldn't have suffered as they did. But the line between sacrifice and murder was blurred these days. _That doesn't excuse the choice he made_ , _only explain it._ The _Snake Fang_ was on another scale from Saleon's experiments.

That line of thought did nothing to calm him down.

The Thanix was ready to fire any moment, given a target, but Garrus continued calibrating. Saleon evaded death twice. So did Sidonis. Sacrifice and murder. Justice and revenge.

Who blurred that line? With the answer in mind, Garrus took his hands off the keyboard. He left the gun battery, walked past the sleeper pods and the mess, and stepped into the elevator. He pressed the button at the top of the console. He never had before, he realized.

He stepped off, staring at the large door and the green marker at its center, then opened it.

The five-way split of the metal revealed Miranda first. She leveled an even gaze at him, then past him. "I think we've gone over everything we needed to. Commander." Her face remained flat as she passed.

When the elevator closed behind him he took the first step forward, then another. Shepard was seated by the desk, staring at his computer.

"We should talk," Garrus said.

Shepard gave him a glance, then turned his chair to face him. "I think I can guess what it's about."

"It's more than that. As much as I don't want to admit it… Jack had a point. Remember Saleon?"

"The doctor selling organs on the black market."

"You told me to let go of how he got away from me. Sidonis? You told me to let go of how he betrayed me and my squad. And I listened to you. And then…" The anger flared up inside, and he took a moment to let it pass. "And then you do this."

"And if I didn't…"

"We would've helped you. We still could've, if you came back with us at the Yin Estate."

"The way I saw it, Whitwell would've released the files she had. To the batarians. To the Alliance, and to the Council. The batarians would want my head even more, and they'd be justified. But the others? I needed them listening to me about the Reapers. They would've just used the _Snake Fang_ as another reason not to."

"You could've gone to Scipio without lying to us."

"Maybe. Probably. I'm not trying to justify what I did, only explain it. What happened turned out completely different from what I wanted."

"What do you want to happen now?"

That gave Shepard pause.

"Like I said, Jack had a point. Maybe Saleon and Sidonis aren't the same as letting seventy thousand people die. Maybe it'll take more than five years to let go of it. But I see it now. All that time you were with Scipio, you weren't even trying to let go. Did you even want to? What about now?" Shepard wasn't looking at him anymore. Garrus went for the door.

As his talons brushed the console, he remembered returning to the _Normandy_ after Sidonis. Then the words Garrus had been looking for came. "You told me you needed people better than you on this ship. Isn't there something wrong with that?"

He left at that, the strangling confusion replaced with certainty.

 

The cabin didn't remain silent for long.

"Look," Joker said, "for this to work, there are these things called trust and communication. The big relationship buzzwords."

"Nobody would've trusted me if I let Whitwell release that report."

"And what actually happened is so much better?"

Yin's mocking laughter still rang clear. _"You did all this to save your reputation, but here you are, burning it to the ground…"_

"He tipped you off. If he hadn't—"

"It wasn't just him. Kasumi didn't get the message, but she noticed something was up. She found camera footage of you meeting Scipio. Kaidan got it to us."

_The odds were against me from the start._ "What do you think I should've done?" No matter what he did, he would be the loser.

"Oh, I don't know. Not abuse EDI's shutdown codes? Not sabotage our ship? Do you know what it was like, piloting a piece of junk freighter while your team was out looking for you? It felt like… like those two years." The anger in his voice started to fade. The pain remained. "Everything was going to shit. I was a mess."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it's my fault. If I hadn't—if I'd listened to you and abandoned ship, I—" Joker let out a frustrated groan. "You wouldn't have died. Cerberus wouldn't have gotten to you."

"I had no idea."

"That was the point."

"You just held it all in?" _Even while…_

"Was I supposed to dump it on you? I couldn't. You were dealing with dying and coming back. You didn't—you _don't_ —need my angst, too."

_"He won't abandon ship,"_ Kaidan said. Shepard made his decision without hesitation. He only wanted to go faster through the CIC, torn open to the vacuum of space, to get to the flickering golden lights on the other end of the bridge.

_"The Normandy's lost. Going doing with the ship won't change that."_ To his relief, Joker relented.

To his relief, even as he drifted through the crumbling husk of the _Normandy_ , the escape pod sealed with Joker safe inside. The rest was burning, suffocating… He shook himself out of those memories.

_I don't regret a thing,_ he almost said. "I told you a lot in this cabin. Were you blaming yourself the whole time?"

"Yeah." The word was a hammer blow. "I was."

_You should've told someone._ Garrus already pointed out his hypocrisy, however, and five years was far longer than two.

"Shit," Joker said. "Look at us. Up to our necks in our own baggage. I meant it when I said I want you to be happy, but… maybe that's because I feel bad I got you killed."

Joker had told him that by the window at the docking area. _"You're… special to me. In that way."_ That treasured moment took on a new light, fueled by guilt. Guilt and anxiety. "Is that why we're doing this, then?" The chill in his chest magnified as he asked that question. "Because…"

"We needed help?" Joker's expression was a mirror. "It's a pretty shitty reason."

To voice his agreement was to damn what they had. Silence settled over them, an oppressive shroud. "What happens now?" Shepard asked, little over a whisper.

"I don't know."

He didn't watch Joker leave. As the cabin door closed, Shepard's hands grabbed fistfuls of the sheets.

He thought of Elysium and the Blitz, the thousands kept out of batarian slave collars. He thought of Feros and Zhu's Hope, the dozens saved from an ancient monstrosity's control. He thought of the millions on the Citadel who survived Sovereign and of the trillions who would've died if the Reaper succeeded.

Thousands, dozens, millions, trillions. Millenia of civilization. The math said he more than made up for Alesh'khal. Trillions versus seventy-seven thousand, five hundred and eighty-four.

Trillions versus his crew, his friends.

Trillions versus one, versus Jeff.

_I did this to him_ , he realized. _Maybe Jack's right._

"What about you?" When he switched on the microphone to ask EDI that question, a tiny eternity of silence had passed. He hadn't moved. "What do you think about all this?"

"I don't believe I'm qualified to pass judgment."

"But you have to have an opinion. You know what I did. To Alesh'khal, to my crew, to you."

"I've concluded the good you've done previously vastly outweighs your errors. However, an opinion based solely on numbers is inherently unsatisfying to organics, who tend to place excessive emphasis on negatives."

"And your deactivation?"

"As I said, an error in judgment. I do not hold grudges or grievances, Shepard."

He had to admit, EDI was right. Pure logic _was_ unsatisfying.

"While we were speaking," EDI said, "I found a story on an Omega news broadcast concerning the attack on Alesh'khal."

_If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to change the topic._ "Put it on the large screen."

It rolled down, covering the ship models. A turian reporter appeared, with asari text that translated to "Batarian Colony Destroyed" scrolling below her. "And now for our top story of the evening. Yesterday, the batarian border colony of Alesh'khal experienced a nuclear detonation at the center of its capital city. Similar plots were uncovered in four other colonies, but authorities were able to locate and defuse the explosives. Hegemony Defense minister Falmirn Zora had this to say."

The screen split, and an old-looking batarian took one of the sides. "We identified the weaponry used in these brazen attacks: the very weapons we gave the Eclipse company in good faith." He spoke with a righteous anger that didn't quite reach his eyes. "This is nothing less than a betrayal, an act of war, and we will make the cowards answer for this outrage."

"The Eclipse officers we contacted declined to make any statements," the reporter said. "However, we've learned that the Blue Suns, Blood Pack, and Eclipse patrols around batarian borders were recalled immediately after Minister Zora made his statement. Oh! One moment."

She pressed two talons against her earpiece, then returned her attention to the camera. "There's a new development. Aria T'Loak, in an unprecedented move, has declared that the three mercenary companies previously mentioned are no longer welcome on Omega, holding them partially responsible for the recent terror attack. All of their remaining forces are to leave the station in the next two days."

She wanted to avoid getting caught in the crossfire, Shepard thought. _But the mercs will remember this, if they survive._

All this happened because of one city's destruction, even one long past its glory days. There was a horrible efficiency to it. A single strike shattered the status quo in the Terminus Systems and isolated the batarian government. Whitwell would've appreciated that, if not the method employed. The nuke was still Samuel Yin's work.

But he had five planted. Only one went off. Veshan suggested Alesh'khal's police had failed, but what if someone intended that?

"There's one more finding I should share," EDI said, as if she'd read his mind. "Shortly after the meeting in the CIC, Jeff gave me access to the YSS spy programs while telling me what happened during my incapacitation. A handful of recent communications indicate that 'Y-Monarch' is still actively giving orders to the company's personnel."

That was YSS's callsign for their boss. "Posthumously?"

"Perhaps. These messages are ordering a limited number of YSS soldiers to rendezvous at attached coordinates. They point to Caesar Station."

Shepard ignored the creeping chill in his chest. "Could be looting the place, now that Whitwell's dead."

"Finally, Scipio's classification in the YSS database has been changed from hostile to friendly."

He didn't want to trust his gut instinct, not after everything that happened, but the information didn't make a nice picture. "Elizabeth Yin." He could hear the disappointment in his own voice, tried as he might to stay neutral.

"I do not follow."

Shepard stood. "But I have to be sure first. Tell Joker to set course for Caesar Station. And if Kaidan and Veshan are still aboard, let them know this might not be over yet."

 

The first time Shepard was here, Ryan Solomon nervously greeted and guided him against a backdrop of chatter: workers and researchers and security guards. In a sterile white office off a sterile white thoroughfare, Director Duran dodged some of his questions and protested others, and at the cavernous reactor core, the Red McCoy recited a line that Daelan Ares wrote for him.

The bankruptcy and dissolution of Kobayashi Arms was an afterthought next to the people its weapons—and the search for them—claimed, but their departure made room for Eclipse, then for Scipio. The last time Shepard was here, Doru Station bore a new name. Most the lights had been left off, shrouding the station in shadows that Scipio agents made their refuge. They whispered as Shepard arrived, whispered as he passed, whispered when they were well behind him. Mercifully, he wasn't here for long.

Now, when the Kodiak shuttle landed, Shepard stepped off into a blackness deeper than space and a silence emptier than a graveyard. His helmet's night vision toggled on as he powered down his shields and entered his cloak.

Scipio shuttles, some purchased but most stolen, once filled the docking bay. Now the Kodiak was alone. Most had gone to Elysium when Whitwell fortified Paradise, but not even the two batarian transports remained. Whitwell had some of her agents searching for Samuel Yin's nukes. She knew he was targeting batarian colonies, and to find them… That was a possibility, but the safe one, the one he wanted to believe.

"Figured you'd show." The raspy voice was like the hiss of a gas canister. The footstep, in this silence, was louder than a nuke.

Shepard had his pistol aimed in a split-second. A Scipio agent emerged from the darkness, half doubled over. "Please," the agent said, "no need to shoot."

"What happened here?"

"Elizabeth Yin. She returned, with YSS. Said our old leaders are dead, so we're supposed to work together now."

He almost didn't want to ask the natural next question. The answer seemed so obvious. "What's she planning?"

"To finish the job. She's taking Scipio—what's left of it… _us_ —and YSS to Khar'shan."

And the answer _was_ obvious. Scipio's subtle manipulations drove a wedge between the Hegemony and the Terminus. YSS's brute force turned that wedge into a crater, filled with dead bodies. At odds, they both reached some version of their endgame. What happened when they joined forces? Then there was Liz…

"Why did only one nuke go off?" Shepard asked.

"Elizabeth said so. One explosion, four threats. Maximize the outrage, minimize the loss of life." The agent shook his head. "'Minimize.' Tens of thousands died the second you shot the old Yin. He had a dead man's switch implanted in him before we attacked the estate."

Whitwell had tried to tell him. "I'm guessing you disagreed."

"I… I was tired. Didn't realize it all at once, it just dawned on me. Piece by piece." The agent's knees buckled, and he lowered himself to his knees. "What we were doing, what Whitwell was doing, wasn't right."

"And Liz didn't appreciate you saying that."

"No." The agent attempted chuckling, but it came out more like a trembling rattle. "No, she didn't. Poisoned me. Something I stole from the salarians. Just desserts, I guess."

Liz could've killed him outright. Maybe she knew Shepard would return to Caesar.

"I shouldn't give you advice, but… go to Khar'shan. Stop her."

_That's what she wants, isn't it? To make me part of her plan? To convince me what she's doing is right?_ As the agent fell onto his side, Shepard moved on. The main thoroughfare was a mess of shattered crates between the husks of old labs and offices. Liz destroyed everything she couldn't take with her, leaving the faint traces of shadows and too many ghosts.

Whitwell had taken Duran's office for herself. The desk top was bare, the drawers lay scattered on the floor, devoid of contents. Down in the sublevel, a thick layer of dust covered all of McCoy's office, unused since the Kobayashi Arms days. And in the reactor…

_"Follow the trail, Shepard."_ Past the platform where McCoy had shot himself was only blackness. An abyss.

What was the point of this? Liz's men had picked the station clean, leaving a single breadcrumb to point the way to Khar'shan. Retracing steps served nobody. Shepard found himself envying the dying agent. A slow realization was easier than a single confrontation with the ugly truth.

_"You did all this to save your reputation, but here you are, burning it to the ground…"_

Shepard returned to the elevator, to the hangar. The agent lay still.

"EDI," Shepard said, "call the Joker and the squad to the conference room in ten." _Hopefully some of them will still want to help._

"Yes, Commander."

Anna Whitwell and Samuel Yin and Daelan Ares lay dead. This wasn't revenge anymore. On Khar'shan lay the chance at some kind of redemption, to end this chapter once and for all by saving people, not dooming them. But… it couldn't be redemption, not all of it. Nor atonement, nor simple closure. Stopping YSS and Scipio and once and for all couldn't be about just Shepard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garrus: Self-improvement is the core of Shepard's motivations. But Garrus points out that Shepard sets higher standards for his crew than for himself. Perhaps Shepard is more concerned with the concept of self-improvement? The concept of heroism?
> 
> Joker: Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. But think back at how their relationship began: in the context of Shepard's post-resurrection crisis and Joker's survivor's guilt, issues that probably aren't fixed simply through the fluffy moments in "Blindside."
> 
> Doru/Caesar Station: Chekhov's Space Station, anyone?


	22. Chapter 22

Shuttles from half a dozen news broadcasts made circles in a rusty red sky, scavenging birds taking in the sight below them and relaying it to millions. Thashaar, capital of Alesh'khal, was a burnt-out husk, its buildings flattened and its pieces scattered. _Omega was bad,_ Garrus thought. _This is something else. The deathblow._ Those rescue vessels racing down to the city would come back empty, or with the tiniest fraction of their capacity.

The window winked out, and another one replaced it above the conference room table. "We identified the weaponry used in these brazen attacks." Across the table, Veshan growled at the image of Lord Zora. "The very weapons we gave the Eclipse company in good faith. This is nothing less than a betrayal, an act of war, and we will make the cowards answer for this outrage." When that clip ended, Shepard dismissed the window.

"So the batarian government is isolated, and Zora has momentum," Miranda said. "Khar'shan has never been a better target."

"But if Elizabeth Yin's leading Scipio and YSS," Kaidan asked, "how'd she escape Elysium?"

"I told her what I was planning and got her to leave before it happened," Shepard said. "I was hoping she'd leave everything behind."

 _Another thing you were wrong about,_ Garrus thought. Jack might have said that aloud, but Garrus stayed silent. He'd told Shepard enough in the captain's cabin.

Miranda cast narrowed eyes Shepard's way. "My question is… is this a mess we can really clean up?"

"What?" Veshan flared up. "After everything they've done, you want to walk away?"

"We can't do that," Tali said. "People are in danger."

Miranda's gaze remained fixed on Shepard. "We're talking about infiltrating the batarian homeworld. Their government wouldn't appreciate us being here, even if we were there to save them. And if we're caught, we can't shoot our way out."

Shepard met her stare. Then he pushed himself off the table.

"I know you're all frustrated. The past several days have been… rough. All of this might've happened differently if I made the right decision at the start. But I didn't. I made mistakes, and I repeated them. I don't know if letting Elizabeth go was one of them, but I know going to Khar'shan won't be. Because Tali's right. This isn't about me, this is about the lives at risk. I'll go alone if I have to, but I'm asking for your help. Not ordering, asking."

 _There it is._ Garrus followed that Commander Shepard to Ilos, through the Conduit, across the surface of the Citadel Tower. He followed that Commander Shepard to the galactic core, to the Collector's monstrous base.

"You're my battlemaster," Grunt said. "My place is at your side. Point me at your enemies, and I'll tear them apart."

Kasumi chuckled at that. "Sneaking into Khar'shan sounds like fun."

Tali, Kaidan, EDI, then Joker voiced their "I'm in"s. At Joker's, a hint of a hopeful smile came across Shepard's face.

That weary person Garrus found in the captain's cabin was also Commander Shepard. Garrus couldn't ignore that side of him anymore, that oppressive specter. _But he's still worth following._ "We're ending this."

"Well," Miranda said, satisfied. "You have all of us."

"Then we'll need a plan," Shepard said.

 

The relay corridor faded to normal space. The Harsa system looked like any other: infinite stars speckled on black, hiding hints of the system's five planets while the namesake star outshone them all. _Then why does it feel different?_ Shepard wondered.

"Stealth systems all green," Joker said. "Picking up a fleet on the sensors. Fifteen cruisers, twenty-five frigates, and five dreadnoughts."

Veshan grunted. "That's a good chunk of the Harsa Aegis's ships. A real defense, or a distraction diverting forces from Khar'shan?" He glanced at Joker. "You can evade them?"

"I ran a geth blockade tighter than this. We're fine."

"If you say so. I'll be in the shuttle bay."

"If something goes wrong down on Bira, radio us ASAP," Shepard said.

Veshan waved him off. "I'll get you the transport. Won't be a problem."

His march down the bridge drew stares from the crew. Meanwhile Joker had fallen into the silent, focused routine of piloting through hostile territory. He was only a few feet away, but his chair seemed larger than usual, a slanted metal shield to block out the world.

Separate but not secret. Commander Shepard stepped up beside the pilot. "So. What's your take on our guest?"

Joker shrugged. "Pretty blunt guy. You don't trust him?"

"I'd trust him over any of the Scipio people I had to work with."

"Does he… know you tried to kill him back at Omega?"

"I think he's figured it out already."

"Guessing he's either really forgiving or really practical. I'm leaning towards option two."

 _Are you talking just about Veshan?_ Shepard never apologized during their talk in his cabin, even though the conversation turned from recent events to older wounds. "Honestly? We're almost like his Cerberus. He has no reason to like us, to like _me_ , but he's convinced working with us is the only way to stop Yin."

"He did say something about owing us—well, Garrus and the others—his life. Though…" Joker glanced up at him. "The analogy kinda falls apart when we compare you to the Illusive Man."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not a completely terrible, manipulative bastard?"

 _Damning with faint praise, but that's still something._ But the space around Joker still felt so impenetrable.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," Shepard said, starting to turn around. He had to stop himself from taking the first step away. Separate, he reminded himself, but… _Don't leave it like that._ "When this is over, I'd like to talk."

Joker seemed to catch his meaning. "Uh, yeah."

That answer was a welcome smidgen of relief. Rebuilding what he had broken would take time, Shepard knew, but this and the meeting in the conference room made for a hopeful start.

His gaze lingered on the airlock. _"Yeah, I'm done."_ Jack, on the other hand… Jack offered him a chance, more than what most got from her, and he turned it into collateral damage. His response to her anger—her justified anger—in the CIC didn't help. She deserved better, and not just because she made all this possible with that one biotic barrier. _I'll be lucky to see her again. I'll be even luckier to make amends._

Shepard started down the bridge. Jack was out of his reach, but Joker wasn't. If everything went well, there would be time for the two missing words. Hopefully, for both of them.

 

The prefabs jutted upwards from the edge of a gargantuan crater, still and silent, aloof to the practical abyss. Once, researchers flocked to the facility on Bira, eager to uncover the secrets of the ruins the earthquake had uncovered. A dozen of those hundreds claimed credit for the discovery of element zero and faster-than-light travel. Only one had their name given to the strange blue-cored structure at the edge of the solar system. Half of the original prefabs had been demolished. Half of those remaining stood abandoned.

As Veshan gazed at the shuttle's camera feed of the last quarter, it seemed to say "Welcome home," unfeelingly and rote. He opened his omni-tool and a communications channel to respond.

His finger lingered above the last key. He could've said, "There are intruding humans aboard the ship in orbit, apprehend them." But the _Normandy_ was already on high alert, and none of the ships nearby were fast enough. Zora was another matter. A call to Khar'shan could reach the wrong ears, or fail to gain any momentum. Veshan's word had little to no weight there. _As useless as the call to Alesh'khal._ The aliens were his best chance at stopping Zora's coup, even though one of them gave a name and face to the ordeal on Galvek.

"This is Captain Veshan to Outpost Zaljar," he said. "I'm approaching the landing platform aboard an alien shuttle. Transmitting identification and authorization now."

Moments after sending, the audio feed crackled. "Identity verified." It was a voice he recognized: Parthuk, his former second-in-command. "Welcome back, Captain. Thought you died with the ambassador."

"I almost did."

A minute later, the human shuttle touched down on weathered, dusty metal. Veshan double-checked the door to the cockpit, shut tight, and his own explanations. Outside the window helmeted soldiers emerged from a prefab. The shuttle door clicked and swung open.

"Captain," one soldier said, with a deferential left tilt. "Are you taking command?"

"No." He made a show of entering commands into his omni-tool. As if on auto-pilot, the shuttle took off. "I just need a few things before I continue to Great Tanbir." Veshan started a quick stride towards the main building. "First off, bring me up to speed on current events."

"You saw our fleet? Might be war with the Terminus Systems."

"Even with so many of our people out there?"

A soldier shrugged. "We'd give them a chance to return. Government hasn't decided anything, though."

 _They probably won't._ "What do you think?" Veshan asked. " _Will_ it be war?"

One soldier seemed surprised that at question, but other said, "A bunch of mercenaries and pirates against us?" Both laughed. "If they come through the relay, it'll be a slaughter, not a war."

It would, Veshan knew. _If they come._

He dismissed his escort when they got inside. Beneath central hallway's always flickering lights, he quickened his pace.

His old office was third from the elevator that led down to the Prothean ruins. Parthuk had rearranged things, but Veshan could still picture himself at that desk, counting his life's savings and searching for ways out of his dead end. Parthuk didn't look much better, staring at some datapad.

"I need one of the shuttles," Veshan said.

After a pause, Parthuk set the datapad down. "What for?"

Now for the story. "I need to get to Great Tanbir to report to Diplomacy, but I can't land on Khar'shan in a human scrapheap."

"Human?"

"Stole a ship. Had to, if I wanted to get back."

"And you got past the fleet?"

"Same way I landed here."

Parthuk grunted, but didn't seem disbelieving. "It might be hard to get a hold of anyone who matters. Word is, the ministers and lords, even the colonial governors, are having a big meeting in the Convocation Rotunda. To discuss war."

 _Everyone gathered in one place._ "I'll figure something out."

"Well, you outlived Meh'kena," Parthuk said, shrugging. "How's three hundred sound for the shuttle?"

"It'll do." Veshan opened his omni-tool and made the transfer. He'd spent more than half of his life's savings getting the Guard-Captain position, but he knew better than to wager all on one lucky break. Maybe, if he said the right words to the right people after stopping the terrorists, he could get that money back and more.

Parthuk nodded at his screen, then hit a button to the side. "Telu, get one of the Ela'gars prepped for a round trip to Khar'shan." The mechanic on the other end chirped an affirmative. Parthuk looked back at Veshan. "It'll be where you landed."

"Much obliged."

"Two things first. How'd you survive the merc attack?"

"Got lucky. What's the other thing?"

"A notice. Straight from the desk of the Lord of Defense."

Veshan frowned. Parthuk reached into his desk as Veshan's hand inched towards his pistol.

"Says you're a suspected collaborator in Meh'kena's assassination. As a soldier of the Harsa Aegis…" Parthuk raised and aimed a pistol as the door opened behind Veshan. The two guards from outside had their rifles out. "I'm to take you in."

Or kill him if he resisted, Veshan knew. "Lord Zora… he called the government meeting, didn't he?"

"Probably."

"What if I told you I'm a loose end in _his_ plot to kill the ambassador?"

"I'd say you're lying. Only way you made it past the fleet was with some trick."

That much was true. "Why would I come back at all if I was guilty?"

"'To be a man on the inside,' so says the notice."

"I have evidence—"

"I don't want to see it. I don't want to be part of whatever you're cooking up, I only want to do my job."

Veshan let out a sad sigh. Familiar story.

"You're coming with us," Parthuk said. "We'll inspect the ship you 'stole,' then we'll bring you to Great Tanbir. It's what you wanted, right?"

Three guns were trained on him, two at point-blank, with many more patrolling the outpost. Veshan dropped his weapon and bowed his head. "Fine."

 

The transport that landed in the _Normandy_ 's shuttle bay was a black, blocky thing, monstrous compared to the Kodiak. Caesar Station stored several of its kind, Kaidan recalled. Most were stolen from Omega, and he'd called in a few favors from Liara to add a few more to Scipio's stock. A slave transport was perfect for sneaking in large numbers of people without drawing questions. Their use in military outposts in the batarian home system could've meant any number of things, none of them good.

Shepard and his squad gathered in a loose half-circle around the shuttle. Kaidan didn't quite count himself among them. Apart from Joker's brief, distracted tour of the ex-Cerberus ship, Kaidan had kept his distance. This SR-2 exuded a whole lot of familiarity, and not the comforting kind. The story of the _Snake Fang_ didn't help.

Unlike that Red two years ago, Whitwell wasn't a problem Shepard could solve with only a shot to the head. _Look where it got him—and everyone around him._

The shuttle opened, revealing a small, empty central cabin and two more doors: one to the front and a heavier one to the back. Out of the former emerged Veshan, with a bruise above his upper left eye.

"Trouble?" Kaidan asked.

Veshan wiped dried blood off a cut on his lip. "Lord Zora doesn't even know me, but he has it out for me. I'm wanted."

"You stole data from Scipio," Kasumi said. "Maybe they told Zora about you, just in case you tried anything back home?"

Shepard nodded. "Sounds likely. What happened down there?"

"My old troops tried to arrest me. They tried and failed to dump me in the slave hold. I know my way around the usual shackles."

"They're here?"

Veshan pointed his thumb at the rear door. "Locked up, won't be a problem. It was either that and release them when this is done, or let them report a stolen shuttle. Besides, we'll need authorization that doesn't belong to a wanted man. Theirs will do."

Shepard followed Veshan's gesture. "They were your men. You know best."

"Can they hear us?" Miranda asked.

Veshan gave her a look, as if she asked a question with an obvious answer. "Ah. Right. This thing's built to carry newly captured slaves. The big cabin is reinforced and sound-proofed."

"So we're still on track," Shepard said. "Joker, set course for Khar'shan."

 _We're committed, then._ "Investigate Anna Whitwell's activities" turned into "end them," then at last (hopefully) "stop Elizabeth Yin from attacking the batarian homeworld." Kaidan glanced at Veshan. _He's committed, too._ Holding Hegemony soldiers against their will no doubt invited harsh punishment. Had Shepard's plea in the conference room swayed Veshan, too?

 Maybe Kaidan should've expected this kind of complication when Whitwell brought Shepard aboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khar'shan: Yes, we are going to the batarian homeworld for the climax of this story!
> 
> Shoker: Or, conversation on the tasks at hand with what was previously said hanging between them. "Separate" was part of their agreement when they started a relationship, but sometimes it's easier said than done.


	23. Chapter 23

"Tanbir. One massive city made up of six smaller ones."

Veshan spoke with barely any space to show the map on his omni-tool. Shepard had been on smaller shuttles with larger holds, but according to Veshan, this central hold wasn't the main compartment, nor was it designed with eight bodies in mind. The slaves held the honor of the most room, locked behind a reinforced door. If things had gone worse on Elysium, or in many other battles, Shepard might have found himself on the other side.

"The most important is Great Tanbir, right in the center." Veshan pointed to the smallest section on the map. "That's where the government is. Where Zora's going to strike."

"So the 'greatness' is in status, then," Kaidan said.

"There's another form of greatness for aliens?"

"Size."

Veshan grunted. "Translators. Anyways. Sneaking around most of the city shouldn't be an issue if you're careful, but only batarians—free or slave—are allowed in Great Tanbir." He looked at Shepard. "You want everyone to get in?"

"I do," Shepard said. "Kasumi and I can stealth through, but that leaves everyone else. Could there be smuggling routes in? Old tunnels, maybe?"

"Hmm." Veshan zoomed in on Great Tanbir. "There are. Most of them belong to the aristocrats, but a few of the slaves' haven't been blocked yet. I know one of the entrances."

"Then we'll get in through there, after we've figured out what Yin's up to. We can't rush into this."

Veshan shrugged, then stepped into the cockpit and hit a button on a console. "Hailing Khar'shan Orbital Control. This is a prison transport from Outpost Zaljar. Requesting permission to land at Great Tanbir, Bastion Canton. Transmitting clearance."

"Clearance accepted, Lieutenant Parthuk. Proceed."

The radar showed a half-dozen other dots on the same trajectory, a small fraction of the dignitaries descending on the center of batarian government. Outside, the first traces of a night sky began bleeding into the view of space. The stars dimmed the deeper the transport plunged.

"They'll get suspicious when my old subordinates don't show up with me," Veshan said.

Kasumi chuckled. "Maybe the extra alert will net them the terrorists."

"Not with Zora blinding everyone to the real threat. He's done a good job of it."

"Politicians, hm?"

Veshan grumbled. "Politicians."

By then, the sky was an opaque gray wall that caught a golden glow from below. The bright lines and blots that were its source parted into dots and strands. Skyscrapers emerged, some sweeping and elegant, others rigid and blocky: ten, a hundred, more. The grandest marked themselves with white and gold beams striking up into the night. The batarians had gathered the best of their history into one city.

Samuel Yin would've wanted to level this shining monolith. Whitwell wanted more figurative ruin, but both of them would've left a lot of rubble in their wake.

As the shuttle merged into air traffic, it swerved a hard right. The last of the skyscrapers made an enormous cliff face, their shine drawing a stark line between Great Tanbir and the rest of the city. And where the shuttle landed, only the barest minimum of lights kept the area from total darkness. Most of it came from the now distant splendor towering above.

"Welcome to Edrakathis," Veshan said.

"All right." Shepard walked through his squad. "We all have the city map. We'll split up and scout around. Don't talk to anyone, don't draw attention. I want radio silence until someone finds a trace of Yin."

She was out there, somewhere among Great Tanbir's innumerable lights. If Minister Zora planned for Veshan's return, maybe Liz expected Shepard's pursuit. _What kind of ruin are you looking to leave?_ The pistol on his belt seemed heavier as he wondered what their confrontation would come to.

 

_They complain too much, my esteemed colleagues._ As the governor of Camala ranted from the other side of the desk—"my colony is far more vital than her diseased backwater"—Lord Falmirn Zora maintained a facade of friendly concern, his head tilted to the left the whole time. Governor Kel'sara was nowhere near his equal, but the display helped placate him nonetheless. _I suppose they don't realize they're about to die._

"The gall, my lord." Kel'sara shook his head, taking a deep breath. "Let's speak of lighter matters. We'll have plenty of time to discuss Camala's protection in a few hours."

"Of course." Zora gestured. A slave—batarian, of course—emerged from the corner of Zora's office to refill Kel'sara's flute.

In another corner, an armored bodyguard watched everything behind an opaque helmet visor.

"Thank you again for your gift," Zora said. "My family found your slaves' performance enrapturing."

"The pleasure is mine. It's not every day I get a chance to entertain one of the Lords of the Hegemony."

Zora's wife, Ejhai, watched the intricate fire dancing with her mouth half-open, and his children, Serak and Athirn, giggled with every flame-whirling flip. Kel'sara would have broached the subject sooner or later in some attempt to win more of Zora's sympathy. Gifts and favors were a greater currency than credits, and the governor was a generous type. _Especially now that his planet appears to be at the most risk._ Camala was an oddity among the colonies, open for travel and tourism to the other species. The news out of Alesh'khal soured the fruit Kel'sara suckled for so long.

"Maybe someday your slaves will perform on the stage at the Palace."

"For the Sovereign?" Kel'sara drummed his fingers against the flute. "That's a lofty aspiration."

"Yes, but I think it's well within reach."

The game continued for well over an hour. Kel'sara wanted insurance his planet would gain a sizable defense force, and Zora let him believe he, not the governor of Adek, would get his wish. Three flutes' worth of har'val left Kel'sara with a slight slur and a habitual chuckle.

When he noticed it, he at last stood and tilted left. "Your har'val is deceptive. Forgive me, my lord, I need some time to recompose myself before the convocation."

"Of course."

The door closed behind Kel'sara. Zora waved his sole attendant slave off as well. With only three bodies left in the room, he returned to his desk and laced his fingers together. "Nobody exemplifies my noisy colleagues like the governor of Camala. You see why this is necessary for _me_."

If he looked hard enough, he could make out a faint ripple beside him. Silence.

Zora glanced at his bodyguard, still as a statue. "An illiterate slave who lost his tongue years ago. I saved him from a worse punishment. He's loyal to me."

Another moment passed before the human woman named Yin said, "It's about what I expected."

"Which begs the question. You worked for my previous ally. Do you share her motivations?"

"It's about survival."

_Not so idealistic, then._ The human woman named Whitwell claimed high principles: dismantling the oppressive structures in batarian society, liberating the disadvantaged. Zora found her amusing, though useful. Her successor, meanwhile, presented a most inspired plan. It was simple enough to direct Camala, Anhur, Logasiri, and Lorek's police while distracting Alesh'khal's. Months of effort shortened into days.

"Then we have more in common than I thought," he said. "These people, my colleagues, they're so wrapped up in their delusions they don't see the decay of our empire. That, or they love playing the victim so much, they _allow_ things to decay to prove their point."

Yin laughed. "You're really opening up to me. I didn't think we'd gotten this far."

He tilted left towards where she was. "You've already proven yourself worth more than all these parasites combined. On that topic…"

"My people report success. Give the aide who helped us a gift for a job well done."

"As you wish." He finished the last of his har'val. "We only need a few hours."

The first fraction of those few took him from his palatial manor to the Convocation Rotunda, glittering from atop Verush's Hill. He emerged from his transport, his bodyguard and a dozen other slaves at his sides, and started his procession between two columns of crystal pillars. The entire domed structure boasted two hundred of those, one for each slave who died defending King Verush from Dralkathi assassins. Legend told their bones were interred at the base of each pillar, down in the Rotunda's foundations—the ruins of Verush's throne room.

His earpiece clicked. "My lord," his guard-captain said, "There's word from the Bastion. Soldiers from Bira were reportedly en route with the traitor, but they haven't arrived, and the landing request was made almost an hour ago."

That was an unfortunate affair, painting a loyal soldier of the Hegemony a terrorist and turning his own subordinates against him. This Captain Veshan would have been better off if he died with Ambassador Meh'kena… or so Zora thought, until he checked Veshan's records. _Another one wounded by Edrakathis._

"Unfortunate. Stay alert and keep me informed."

Twin statues of Verush, polished to the highest sheen, flanked the gargantuan gates before him. Zora had passed them by countless times, but with the Hegemony's destiny close at hand their presence grated at him more than ever. Suppressing a scowl, he looked to the guards in their shadow. They tilted left and opened the way through.

A short hallway led to the Convocation Chamber proper, a cavern of gilded metal and synthetic crystals that reflected light a hundred times over. The minister of diplomacy was not among those gathered on the central floor, nor was he in the podium meant for him. "Illness" was the word from his aide.

Meanwhile, High Sovereign Serak'hir Lerai stood above them all in every sense of the term, staring down from his balcony halfway up the northern wall. Zora tilted left as their eyes met.

Lerai smiled, raising his cocktail glass in a mock toast. _I suppose he doesn't realize he's about to die._

His respects paid, Zora took the stairs to his private office. As the bodyguard closed the door behind him, Zora took a deep breath. Liquor would've been welcome, but this evening his mind required full sharpness. The war debate proper was set to begin in another few hours. The culmination of his plans was set to arrive sooner.

"It seems Enik Veshan has found his way onto Khar'shan. Not as a prisoner, but a would-be enemy."

"Shepard must be with him," Yin said. "One of my men went dark."

"You're certain he'll take the bait?"

"Positive. But just in case he goes after me, well, I don't think your friends will appreciate us fighting out in the open. Suggestions?"

He knew just the one, secluded and symbolic. "This building's foundations. They're far enough underground that nobody will hear the gunfire. Feel free to… let loose." He sent her a map. "As for Captain Veshan, I may require your people's services. Whoever you can spare."

 

At the sound of footsteps from around the corner, Miranda darted into an alley and crouched. The batarian guard passed.

For a moment she was fifteen again. Wearing her business suit, she evaded her father's guards in the cracks and crevasses of Sydney with a pistol seeing its first use in hand. The designer coat, perfectly tailored, suffered a few stains by the time she reached Niket's car. He was too happy to lend her an old hoodie.

That whole time, "never again" was her mantra. Never again would she live under Henry Lawson's thumb, a blank slate upon which he would engrave his dynasty. Shepard's story made it clear that he lived by "never again," too. _To mixed results._

"EDI," she said, almost whispering into the microphone. "Have you made any progress?"

"Yes. I've triangulated encrypted signals matching those used by Yin Security Services. Their source should be nearby." EDI's assistance proved immeasurable. Finding Elizabeth Yin in a megapolis twice as large as any on Earth would've been impossible without her.

"Kasumi, can you look around?" Miranda asked.

"On it."

Only a few batarian guards were out and about. These streets didn't appear so different from Sydney's, with cracks and crevasses of their own. _But they are._ A different people lived on them. A different culture infused them, molding the buildings with designs she'd never seen before. And a different government ruled them, embittered and vengeful.

_And we're here to save it._ The thought amused her, but also gave her pause.

"Hey," Kasumi said. "I think I see something. Poke your head out where I marked the radar."

Miranda followed the blinking ping. A lone human shuffled along in her direction, clinging to the illuminated side of the street like his life depended on it.

"This guy's YSS. His face is in the database."

This soldier wore a silky black tunic with silver embroidery. Silver cuffs wrapped around his wrists and ankles, a choker around his neck. "A slave's uniform. This must be how they smuggle themselves all over the city." _Dress like an aristocrat's slave, nobody notices you._ But why a YSS soldier, when Scipio's remnants offered better infiltrators? "Are any guards nearby?"

"One. I can distract 'em if you want to nab this guy."

"Do it."

Kasumi's dot on the radar bolted in a direction. Miranda pressed herself against the side of the alley wall. The YSS soldier's black silhouette emerged from the corner. One step. He had to be alert for ambushes. Two steps. But why was he out alone in the first place?

On the soldier's third step, Miranda signed. The biotic field snared him, turning him into a statue glowing blue. She grabbed his shoulders and shoved sideways. His back smacked against the ground. His eyes, wide open, darted back and forth. Miranda dragged him into the alley, then planted her foot on his chest and pointed her gun at his head. Only then did she release him.

The YSS soldier gasped. "You—"

"Elizabeth Yin's plans," she said. "Now."

"I…" He blinked more, shook his head. Then opened his omni-tool. "She has a message."

_Of course she came prepared._ She would've been a fool not to. "Play it. Don't try anything."

Yin's image appeared in a new window. _"Shepard. How's Khar'shan for you? I don't blame you for trying to stop me, but maybe, once this is over, you'll see that I needed to do this. That someone had to do this. So I'm giving you a choice._

_"My soldiers stole six nukes from Scipio and scattered them across batarian colonies. One blew up. I let the batarian police get to four. The last one is somewhere in Tanbir, nowhere near the Convocation Rotunda." Her expression hardened. "Find it, or find me. Make your choice."_

_Another complication._ "Where's the nuke?" Miranda asked.

She made the question sound more like an order, and he picked up on that. "The pleasure palace of Lord Ah'lari."

Miranda nodded. "Thank you for your cooperation." In one swift motion, before the soldier could react, she brought her omni-tool down on his chest. He spasmed, then went limp.

"That message was intended for Shepard," she said. "Yin's expecting him." Elizabeth Yin's use of YSS made sense now. This soldier was meant to be discovered.

"But not us," Kasumi said.

"It's something we might be able to work with." Miranda opened comms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tanbir: The Alliance has headquarters all over Earth, but the Hegemony is centralized in one extravagant display of both blinding wealth and festering squalor.
> 
> Falmirn Zora: He wasn't going to be a POV, but I found his perspective valuable: a view from the top of the Hegemony, but slightly embittered. Just slightly.


	24. Chapter 24

These tunnels didn't exist, not in the histories. But every day, freed slaves passed beneath the ancient, flickering lights. Lovers crossing castes rendezvoused against a background of dark gray metal splattered with rust. And now, a soldier of the Harsa Aegis and a human of the Alliance were on their way to stop a Lord of the Hegemony and a human terrorist.

"They'll find the bomb?" Veshan asked.

Shepard, cloaked, had taken point. "They will."

"If they don't, the High Sovereign and his Lords will find something new to complain about." Veshan snorted. "Before they die, too."

"None of your people are dying today." Shepard paused. "I should apologize, by the way. For killing the ambassador. And for trying to kill you."

That seemed like another life. "Weird time to be bringing that up."

"I don't think we'll find a better one."

The future was stopping the human terrorists, clearing his name, and watching Zora fall from the High Sovereign's Vantage. After that, Veshan drew a blank. _Back to normal,_ he supposed. _If I can even go back to Bira._ Maybe the government would give him his old detective position back.

_Out of forgiveness?_ There was nothing to forgive for Edrakathis.

"I understand coercion," Veshan said. "The rest of your baggage is for you and yours to deal with."

"I guess it is."

"Besides, I read a few things on your extranet while your squad was on Terra Nova. Some batarians tried dropping an asteroid there two years ago."

"They did. My team and I stopped them."

"And their leader… his name was—"

"Balak."

"Ka'hairal Balak. A Commander in the Batarian External Forces."

"He's military?"

"Different branch from the Harsa Aegis. He's decorated. Respected. And a terrorist. The government would never let that would be associated with him on Khar'shan, but… they supported this." Veshan laughed. "And we're saving _them_."

"You have doubts?"

"Shouldn't _you?_ " External Forces were supposed to end threats before they reached Harsa, or any of the colonies. But an asteroid projectile? When Veshan read those news reports, he had to laugh. At Balak, at the government, at himself.

"Should I be doubting? Maybe. But I don't believe in answering terrorism with terrorism."

The partition door slammed shut. Veshan muttered a curse, running his hand along the thick metal. No obvious locks or weak points stood out.

It made sense for the one with the stealth cloak to scout ahead, but if someone was watching… Veshan looked up and around. No security cameras hung from the ceiling, at least in plain sight. _Why would they be here at all? Nobody who would want them here should know about this tunnel._

"Veshan," Shepard said. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. We just need to get—"

Something nudged against his back. Three red dots appeared on his radar, and in the corner of his eye, a black-armored figure de-cloaked. "Hands up. Don't worry, we're ordered not to hurt you."

_Great comfort._ Veshan complied. "Go on ahead."

Shepard must've seen the new company on the radar, too. Without a word his dot headed off.

The gun to Veshan back prodded him on. They proceeded down the other fork of the tunnel, two in the front, the one with the gun in the rear, and Veshan in the center. With each step the tunnel widened.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked.

"To the defense minister."

"He knew where to find me?" He received no answer. _He was prepared, too._

The rest of the tunnel sloped upwards, and past a partition was an elevator. All the feet tracted muck and dirt along the clean metal floor, and the actual door didn't match the tunnels at all. The ride itself was long and silent, not because the tunnels were deep underground, but because faster speeds drew more power. Anomalies in Great Tanbir's power grid invited questions.

Slaves couldn't have built this, not in secret. Maybe this part of the system wasn't so unknown to Great Tanbir's residents after all. _Or maybe it's just Zora._

Veshan pictured breaking his restraints, punching the Scipio agents out, and confronting the traitor himself—at gunpoint. But the shackles he placed on his old troops were different from Scipio's, and beating Zora's location out of the agents would waste time. Veshan relaxed his arms.

The elevator inched to a halt and opened, not to another labyrinth, but a darkened landing platform and a nondescript shuttle perched on it. They were still underground, according to Veshan's HUD. Somewhere in the blackness beyond the platform must have been an escape tunnel.

From the shuttle's central hold, a batarian in dark purple robes greeted him with a left tilt. "Welcome."

Veshan snarled. "The traitor."

"Neither of us are traitors," Lord Zora said as Scipio ushered Veshan inside. "I apologize for that lie, and for the misfortune it caused you. I didn't know who you were when I placed the arrest order. If I did, I would've extended an invitation to my home, so we might talk in private."

He _seemed_ sincere, Veshan's detective years told him. "What makes me so important?"

The shuttle closed and started, first with a gentle ascent, then an even gentler acceleration. At Zora's gesture, the Scipio agents removed Veshan's shackles.

Zora offered a sympathetic frown. "Edrakathis, of course."

 

The batarian shuttle's cockpit looking nothing like the Kodiak's, but Kaidan had picked up the controls well enough. Outside, other vehicles in the evening air traffic gave their transport as much space as any other. Military vehicles were a common sight, Miranda supposed.

They had crossed into a sub-city called "Vairak," brilliant and vibrant compared to Edrakathis but a flicker of a candle next to Great Tanbir. And even still, Vairak's beating heart took up the tiniest fraction of its city blocks, a strip of gaudy excess that echoed Las Vegas on Earth. But where Vegas had casino resorts, Vairak boasted large coliseums and seedy fighting pits. Long after the shuttle passed, Miranda kept her map focused there.

_Bread and circuses,_ she thought. _Whitwell's name choice was utterly ironic._

"We're coming up on the palace," Kaidan said.

Their destination was a silver ziggurat not much larger than the Yin Estate. But at its peak, a needle-like tower reached into the sky, topped with a sphere and a light beam. _There's no room for anything but an elevator._ The tower's only function was to overlook the neighboring skyscrapers. _Wasteful_ , she thought, but that could've been said about countless symbols of greatness on Earth.

Garrus pointed at the sphere. "That has to be where the nuke is. It would do the most damage at an elevation."

"Can we enter it from the shuttle?" Miranda asked.

"Doesn't look like there are any windows," Kaidan said. "We'd need to cut our way in."

"And that would take too long. Find us a place to land."

As Kaidan took the shuttle in closer, Miranda made out large engravings on the ziggurat's walls: caricatures of slaves on their hands and knees, with a batarian in robes lording over them. The slaves had two eyes, bulbous and mismatched. Shaggy manes covered their heads. _Humans. Bad caricatures of humans._ Yin's estate seemed the pinnacle of subtlety in comparison.

"One landing pad," Kaidan said. "No guards from the looks of it."

Miranda nodded. "Set us down."

The pad was empty, but well-lit. Kasumi activated her cloak, hopped off, and took a look around the grounds. "All the security systems are down."

"So somebody could've noticed and reported it to the police?" Garrus asked.

"I don't think the batarians here would question it," Kaidan said. "This place belongs to one of their leaders."

Tali stared out the shuttle's front window. "Why here? There are easier places to put a nuke."

"It might be a statement," Miranda said. "You saw how this Ah'lari decorates his palace."

"Door's open," Kasumi said.

Miranda unclipped her pistol as the squad started moving. "Kaidan, start the jamming."

Kaidan worked his omni-tool. Between his data on Scipio and Kasumi's spy programs in YSS, they had most of the enemy's communications channels on record. Elizabeth Yin believed only Shepard had come to Khar'shan. Miranda wanted to keep it that way.

He hit one last button. "It's on."

Garrus stepped off and signaled. The rest of the squad fell in behind him, across the landing pad and through the grand entrance.

But as large as the twin doors were, the hall inside dwarfed it completely. Four stories tall and wide enough for four Kodiak shuttles lengthwise, it bisected the entirety of the ziggurat. Each wall boasted a massive mural, their intricate details wrapping around the dozen balconies that punctuated each segment.

Two ornate pillars stood before the entrance. Miranda took cover behind the left and peeked around it. The pair was one of many, a procession of polished metal leading to a larger set in the middle of the building—the elevators to the tower.

"We're in a bad position," Garrus said. "We should hurry."

The squad crept down the hall, their footsteps stirring whispers of echoes. Countless light fixtures along the walls and the pillars shone at full strength. Large painted batarians stared down at the intruders. The well-dressed ones, frozen in the throes of ecstasy, had mockery in their eyes. The naked ones in shackles had pity, warning. The balconies, Miranda reminded herself, her finger on her pistol's trigger.

That's why it was no surprise when a half-dozen doors opened with a thunderclap, and white-clad soldiers emerged above with their rifles out and aimed.

"What the…" one of them said. "You weren't supposed to be here."

"Surprised?" Miranda asked. "But if you were expecting Shepard, doesn't that mean Yin sent you here to die?"

A moment of hesitation from the soldiers. _They still have height and cover on us. Scipio is nowhere in sight, too, but they have to be here._

"We know what we signed up for," the soldier said.

Miranda dropped her pistol. She'd never signed faster. A surge of energy sprung from her hands, forming a blue dome that covered the whole squad. The barrier rippled on all sides, catching the rain of slugs halfway between the balconies and the floor.

The squad returned fire: pistols, rifles, biotic fields, and omni-tool attacks. Enemies fell, but too few and too slowly.

"Keep moving," Miranda shouted over the din. "And look out for Scipio."

Steeling her concentration, she broke into a jog with her arms held out at her sides. Each step brought the elevators closer. The others formed up around her, still returning fire. There was a scream and a loud crash. Miranda kept her gaze forward.

The sound of fading cloaks came from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, alarmed and aware of her vulnerability—

Sharp pain. The barrier faltered. The Scipio agent stepped away from her, starting to cloak again.

Grunt rammed into the agent as she vanished. The bark of his shotgun prompted a disembodied scream. The body reappeared on the floor.

Miranda's hardsuit whined about a breach, but she was still standing and able to sign. But as she remade the barrier, three more Scipio agents appeared. The first lunged at Tali. She ducked under the omni-blade, blasting him in the face with her shotgun. Kaidan locked his attacker inside a stasis field.

A pained grunt from Garrus. Kasumi had dealt a knockout blow to the agent from behind, but the blade was buried several inches in Garrus's gut. He staggered, his rifle loosely held in one hand, and used the other to pull the blade out. "Dammit."

No more Scipio came at them, but YSS kept following, balcony by balcony. Beads of sweat ran down Miranda's face. Her arms felt a hundred times heavier. Each step she took, her barrier shrank.

It was half its original size when they reached one of the elevators. Miranda staggered forward, catching herself on a part of the wall beside the door. She kept one arm outstretched, but it refused to stay level.

Kaidan had his back to her, still shooting at the hostiles. "Go. Someone has to keep them off you."

"By yourself?" Miranda asked.

Grunt barked a laugh as he stepped up to Kaidan's side. "Don't even have to ask."

Tali got the elevator open. Once the others rushed in ahead of Miranda, she let the barrier drop and followed. The door shut, and the elevator began a gentle ascent.

She took a deep breath, ignoring the first flames of a headache. "Statuses?"

"I'll be fine," Garrus said with a faint groan.

Kasumi peeked around Miranda's shoulder. "You took a hit yourself."

A stab in the back, her hardsuit said, but the medigel was doing its work. Nevertheless, her left shoulder and arm felt like dead weight. _Samara had to cross a longer distance under heavier fire._ Shepard chose wisely at the Collector base.

"I'll live," Miranda said. "Let's hope that was all of them."

The elevator halted and opened to a 360-degree view of the city. Even the floor seemed like glass, revealing every inch of the two-hundred-meter drop. The sphere was metal outside, Miranda recalled. _A projection._

A single fixture hanged from center of the the transparent ceiling, casting a pale yellow spotlight on the nuke… and the batarian chained to a chair beside it. He looked the same age as Zora, but his fine burgundy robes were crumpled and stained, and a trickle of red ran down his chin. And among the chains, a device was strapped to his chest.

He recoiled in his seat as the squad emerged from the elevator, then threw them a withering stare. "More alien filth. How much were you paid? A great deal, I hope, to hold a Lord of the Hegemony hostage. Whoever did this, I swear…"

"You're a rather vocal captive," Miranda said. "Lord Ah'lari, I presume?"

"Of course! You didn't know who you were paid to take prisoner in his own home?"

"We're not with them. Tali, see what you can do about the nuke."

Tali approached, keeping a respectful distance from Ah'lari, and ran her omni-tool's scanning programs.

"Now," Miranda said, "you must have questions. We can answer them, if you answer ours. Why would your kidnappers target you?"

Ah'lari narrowed his eyes. "This is some sort of trick."

"No tricks. We're here to stop the people who did this to you."

One by one, Ah'lari gave each of the squad an appraising glance. "You lot are more… diverse than the humans who raided my palace. They told me this was about Elysium."

"Elysium? As in the Blitz?"

"I…" Ah'lari looked at Tali while she worked. "My subordinates made the deals with the mercenaries. I approved them."

_Clearly an enemy of humanity,_ Miranda realized. That was already apparent from the engravings on the palace ziggurat and the murals inside, but this information was on a different level. _Is this someone we're supposed to protect, Shepard?_

"The detonator's been modified," Tali said. "It's entirely dependent on a dead man's switch."

"Killing Ah'lari sets off the nuke?" Garrus asked.

"No." Tali stepped back. "Killing him _disarms_ it."

 

"I detect several Scipio signals scattered throughout the Convocation Rotunda," EDI said. "They resemble connections between a bomb and a shared detonator. More specifically, those stolen from the salarian STG."

"So she's planning on gassing the leaders." _Like what I did to Scipio and YSS,_ Shepard noted. "Can you pinpoint the detonators?"

"There's only one. The signals converge beneath the Rotunda, likely at its foundations. I may be able to jam the detonator, but I can't guarantee it."

Veshan came through again, his map showing a less-than-obvious path. Shepard let the pang of worry pass. _They wanted him alive, and he's survived everything they've thrown at him so far._ Shepard included.

"Then I'm on my way there," Shepard said.

A ladder led down to another section of the tunnels. The metal was even more rusted there, the lights dimmer, the air thicker. The layout changed from a straightforward network into a literal labyrinth.

Half a dozen tunnel segments later, some of which were so small he had to crawl, Shepard came to a plain partition door, more worn than the one that cut him off from Veshan. A small gap ran down the middle. He put his fingers through and pulled. The metal groaned, but gave way, inch by inch, under his Cerberus-given strength. That door opened to a metal panel just behind it. Shepard gave it a small shove, and it swung out.

The chamber had a low ceiling but was otherwise massive. Crystal pillars stood in dozens of places, surrounding a wide metal core. Shepard dropped to the floor with the lightest thud.

The pillars' foundations were gilded metal, false gold meeting synthetic crystal right above the top of Shepard's head. All the bases had a window, and through the dusty glass were bones and armor, strapped to a red cloth lining. _Trespasser_ , the skulls in their ornate helms seemed to say.

_I know._

That metal core was the crumbled shell of a room, he realized, stepping up to its open entrance. She was inside, in a large hall, sitting sideways on a throne missing half of its back.

Shepard de-cloaked.

Elizabeth Yin looked up at him from her omni-tool. "Shepard. Should've attacked me from stealth."

"You know I wouldn't do that."

"So you could give me a chance to change my mind? See the error of my ways? I can't call this off. I won't."

"You trust Zora that much?"

"'Trust' is a strong word. But we both want the same thing."

"Revenge?"

Her expression darkened. "Survival." She swung her legs to the floor and stood, kicking up a cloud of dust in her wake. "You didn't forget how many batarians will die when the nuke goes, right? I hate to say it, but you're making a habit of letting these things happen to them."

_Keep your cards close._ "I came here to end this."

She sighed. "I knew it would get to this point." Elizabeth took her pistol off her belt. Her hand rose. The muzzle pointed at him.

"Don't do this," Shepard said. "You can't take the first shot back."

"You think I want this? I didn't stop you on Elysium because I saw a chance to make things better."

For a moment he remembered Alesh'khal, the Snake Fang, and Daelan Ares: a red planet, a freighter, and a gunshot. The shot he didn't take condemned seventy thousand. The one he took killed one after the fact, after the damage was done. _What about this shot?_ he asked himself, his hand moving for his own pistol.

"This won't make anything better."

"Us, having the big N7 fight? Definitely not." Liz tensed.

He flung himself to the side, behind a pillar. The gunshot echoed.

"Well, it doesn't need to happen," Liz said. When Shepard looked around his cover, she was already vanishing into her cloak. "For me, at least. You? Good luck finding me."

Shepard lowered his voice. "EDI, jam the signal."


	25. Chapter 25

"Disarms?" Ah'lari asked, staring down at the device on his chest, then at Miranda. They had come to same realization at the same time, she knew. Ah'lari wasn't a hostage, he was a sacrifice.

_Kill one member of the batarian government while Yin offed the rest, or save most while the official behind the Blitz dies anyways._ The situation at the palace presented a choice, too: _kill the official behind the Blitz or thousands die._ Ah'lari's gaze remained fixated on Miranda, his breathing heavy but steady. A desperate attempt to stay dignified in front of his would-be killers.

"It's the simple solution," Miranda said. "Yin's giving Shepard a second chance." Instead of an old regret, Shepard was to decide the fate of an old, if indirect, enemy.

"Didn't we come here to _save_ the government?" Kasumi asked.

"We did." Shepard wasn't here to make the choice laid out for him, though his mistake wasn't all that different from Miranda's. Thousands versus the one—both of them chose the latter.

She could kill Ah'lari and play along, taking the only winning move the game's designer had left for her. Aboard the _Snake Fang_ , Shepard refused to do so. Too many paid the price. _Or_ Miranda could cast the game table aside, board and pieces and all. _Like I should've done at Omega._

"Can you disarm it?" Miranda asked Tali.

Tali kept working at her omni-tool. "It's complex tech, for a bomb. With the time we have left… it'll be close, but I can do it."

"Get it done."

 

"Do you know about the Two Hundred Pillars?" Lord Zora asked. "The crystal ones, all around the outside of the Rotunda."

Veshan disliked odd questions, and he disliked answering them even more, but what choice did he have? Zora's statuesque bodyguard had the perfect stillness of a slave pit fighter. The Hegemony's best did not serve in the military. "I've only ever seen them in vids."

"They commemorate the slaves who died defending King Verush from Dralkathi assassins… A nice story, inspiring to some extent, except those two hundred weren't slaves. They were the royal honor guard. Real slaves would've sunk the daggers into his back themselves. One more lie, literally holding up the halls of power."

"Not surprising. What's the point?"

Zora's brows quirked. "Not surprising?"

"I used to be a detective, remember?" Veshan thought himself well-equipped to sift truths from half-truths and outright lies. Sometimes solving cases required digging outside what the government considered the world. He never lingered in dangerous territory longer than needed, so his superiors never minded. "I know a few things I shouldn't."

"Do you know that the old Dralkath Kingdom _opposed_ slavery? Another fact erased from history."

"Why should I take your word for it?"

"The Zora lineage at the Spire of Records vastly differs from the one I keep to myself. I am a scion of Dralkath."

"Don't you own slaves?"

Zora glanced over his shoulder at his bodyguard. "Only because appearances demand it. Now, my point: Where would we be today if Verush died that day, and Dralkath seized power in his empire? Poorer, Lerai and his ilk would tell you. Less enlightened. Perhaps still trapped on Khar'shan. I say otherwise. We would have double the colonies we have today. We would still have an embassy on the Citadel. We would be an empire in fact, united with the rest of the galaxy, instead of an empire in name."

Zora sighed. "And that is why I must right the wrongs of the past. For our survival. The Edrakathis uprising was my doing. I empowered the movement's leaders, perhaps too quickly. I cautioned them against overt action so soon, but they refused to listen. And so, the three of us are here."

_So you're why I was sent to Bira_ was Veshan's first thought. One quarter of Edrakathis's slaves rose up that day. The other three were caught in the crossfire of the rebels and the Tanbir Guard. _"Follow me,"_ he told those he could gather.

"Save your sympathy for the dead," Veshan said.

"Too many died, during the uprising, the purges, the last few executions."

_I protected those last few, and they were killed anyways out of spite for what I did._ The old anger, held in for seven wasted years at Outpost Zaljar, resurfaced. His fists clenched.

"But," Zora said, gesturing behind him, "I managed to save one. Losing a tongue is better than losing a life, better than losing one of the best gladiators in generations."

"Is that all he is to you?"

"He is safer at my side than in the pits. Nobody dares to attack a Lord. Thus I use the privilege of my title for his benefit… and for the benefit of all slaves. You can see why this is necessary. Our Empire needs a clean slate."

Lower-caste batarians faced their death sentences in fighting pits, with starved carnivores or brutal gladiators rushing them down. But a few seconds of shock and suffocation? A flashing slice of an explosion before oblivion? Whatever Zora planned had to be merciful by comparison. _"I don't think answering terrorism with terrorism is the right call,"_ Shepard had said, but did Zora describe terrorism or revolution?

A clean slate. "After everyone's dead, what happens?"

Zora glanced downward, a telling pause. "We rebuild."

"'We?'"

"You don't honestly believe I'm alone in my beliefs?" Zora asked. "The Hegemony strangles so many, some were bound to grow tired of choking."

"Who? More slaves, like Edrakathis?"

"A slave uprising won't serve after the government falls. I have other allies. Patriots eager to lead Khar'shan into a new age. And this time, I assume the burden of ushering in that age."

"By making friends with human terrorists."

"I took a risk, Captain, so that nobody else in my circle would have to."

"So these people stay safe in the shadows while thousands die on Alesh'khal?"

Zora paused, frowning. "Ever since the disaster five years ago, Lerai saw fit to squeeze every last credit out of it, to grind it into dust. Thashaar made Edrakathis look like Great Tanbir."

"I was talking about what you did, not Lerai."

"The colony was already dead. My allies euthanized it, not happily, knowing the nuclear detonation would lead to this. Tonight, I will avenge Alesh'khal, I assure you. Alesh'khal, Edrakathis, even Dralkath. And once the new government is secure, we re-establish ties to the Citadel."

"They'll accept us back? Just like that?"

"Negotiation is inevitable. Reparations will be made for the victims of Lerai's regime."

"Aren't you part of that?"

Zora scowled. "I have nothing to do with the External Forces' activities. I am Lord of _Defense._ "

Veshan tried picturing a batarian ambassador, not unlike Meh'kena, meeting alien counterparts. _"How did this happen?" "Our previous rulers were killed in a coup."_ Killed in a coup. Terrorism with terrorism. He shook his head. "They won't believe you."

Zora narrowed his eyes.

"You could never clean the slate," Veshan said. "Listen to yourself. You talk a lot about helping slaves, but they're just accessories to show how nice you are. You're still above them, handing down scraps. And working with terrorists?" He shook his head. "You're no better than Lerai."

"You will not aid me, then." Zora's voice took on an icy edge.

Enik Veshan stared into his eyes. "No."

"Might I remind you that you're still wanted? I could have you executed right now."

"You're proving me right with every word you say."

Zora sighed, folding his hands behind his back. "Then by my Sovereign-granted authority as Lord of the Spire of Defense, I sentence you to die." He stepped aside.

Flashes of orange. The Scipio agents, blades out, pounced.

Zora's bodyguard was even faster. One moment he was behind Zora. The next, he was in front of him, driving his fist to the side. Veshan ducked under everything, swept his leg out. He caught one of the agents, bringing her down. The other… Veshan glanced up.

The other staggered backwards, his visor cracked. Zora's bodyguard grabbed him by the helmet and slammed his head into the rear bulkhead. One, two, three.

"What you doing?" Inching towards the cockpit, Zora raised his omni-tool.

_The kill switch._ Veshan got to his feet and threw himself at Zora. Armor crashed into robes, and the two of them hit the bulkhead with a slam. Zora growled and kicked and flailed, but Veshan was the soldier, not him. The flash-forged shackles around Zora's wrists were the sweetest sight Veshan laid eyes on in a while.

Behind him came a grunt. The bodyguard dropped the female agent to the deck, then approached.

 "As a soldier of the Aegis," Veshan said, standing and yanking Zora up with him, "I put you under arrest, my lord."

Zora ignored him, however, straining against his restraints. "Why?" He almost lunged towards his bodyguard, but Veshan kept his grip on the lord's arms. "I saved your life, gave you a place of honor. I was going to help you and all the other slaves. To free you."

The bodyguard stared at him for a long moment. His arms came up around his neck and undid the seals one by one. And when he pulled his helmet off, the scarred batarian beneath the featureless visor turned his gaze to Veshan and dipped his head.

"Don't bow to me," Veshan said. "I'm the one who owes you."

Zora hadn't stopped. "This won't stand. A soldier and a slave, taking a Lord hostage? If you go to the Bastion with me like this, they'll shoot you on sight. I'm still your best chance of surviving."

Veshan gestured at the unconscious Scipio agents. "Don't forget about the human terrorists."

Finally, Lord Falmirn Zora fell silent.

Veshan stepped inside the cockpit and took the pilot's seat. "We should lay low for a while. This mess isn't over yet." If the bomb went off or the politicians died, nothing that happened in this shuttle would matter.

 

"And…" Tali looked up at the nuke. The countdown stopped, and the haptic display died. "There."

With deft touches and a little omni-blade work, Kasumi tugged the chains off, device and all.

Thus the game board and its pieces went clattering to the floor. Miranda nodded, satisfied.

It was a different story for Ah'lari, standing up and backing away from Kasumi and Tali. "This has to be some trick. One more step on some scheme…" He glanced out the viewports.

Two transports emerged from the darkened cityscape, similar to the one Veshan stole but smaller. _No slave holds,_ Miranda realized. _These ones are meant for troops._ They slowed past the tower, then descended to one of the landing pads.

"Here to deal with the terrorists?" Garrus asked.

To Ah'lari, Miranda said, "Your rescue's arrived. I imagine they'll be predisposed to arrest us along with the terrorists, if not kill us outright. I realize we're trespassing on the property of a Lord of the Hegemony, but I'm asking you: will you let us go?"

Ah'lari didn't respond, still staring outside.

_His hesitation is promising._ She opened comms. "Lawson to Alenko. The bomb's been dealt with, what's your status?"

"We're fine," Kaidan said. "Once you got in the elevator, the tables turned."

"Good. Get to the shuttle and prep it."

Then, with an exasperated sigh, Ah'lari opened his omni-tool and made begrudging keystrokes. "This is Lord Ah'lari. Maintain a perimeter around the palace. Some of my servants are still evacuating. Let their shuttle go."

"My lord," someone responded, "I must know the situation inside. Are you injured?"

Ah'lari jabbed a finger towards the elevator. "Not seriously."

Miranda nodded with all the respect she could muster—not much, as her back still ached, but unlike with Samuel Yin, her gratitude was genuine. Tali, Kasumi, and Garrus followed behind her.

"I was held captive, but no longer, and not because any of you figured I was attacked. Why…" Ah'lari's ranting went on as the elevator closed and started its long descent to the palace floor.

 

For now, the ancient throne room and the sub-level surrounding it were quiet.

Shepard stalked between the crystal column-coffins, his pistol out but his cloak off. Presenting himself as a target stood a better chance of drawing Liz out than staying in stealth himself. The irony wasn't lost on him. _And EDI's jamming won't last forever._

Catch a flicker of her cloak, he decided, pulling a damping grenade off his belt. "How long before the nuke blows? I said you're not your father, but you're about to prove me wrong for the second time."

Nothing.

Comms crackled. "Lawson to Shepard."

"You have good news?"

"I do."

"So do I," Veshan said.

Shepard put the channel on his omni-tool's speakers.

"The bomb is disarmed," Miranda said. "The threat to Lord Ah'lari is over. We're en route to the rendezvous, and we'll free Veshan's prisoners once we're there."

"And I have Zora," Veshan said. "One of the Scipio agents told me where the gas canisters were hidden. I sent the Rotunda guard a tip, and now it's being evacuated."

"Copy that. Over and out."

"Your squad came with you." Yin's voice came from the right.

"Loyalty I don't deserve, I know," Shepard said. "But you heard them: it's over."

For several moments, only silence answered him. The outer wall of the sublevel had many exits to the tunnels, but only the door he'd taken remained open. He started towards it, gaze scanning…

A grenade landed at his feet. A cloak popped. Anger, frustration, desperation: Yin's cry mixed with the crackling explosion of red lightning. Shepard's body seized up, his gun slipping from his fingers. The crack of Yin's shotgun was even louder. He staggered. His shields caught most of the blast, but the side of his armor was shredded. Elizabeth Yin stared at him, teeth bared.

Shepard remembered the Yin Estate, facing down his squad while Samuel Yin was at his mercy.

Yin grabbed the top of his breastplate and pulled him in. "What the hell do you want? Peace?" Her questions were half-whispered snarls. "They don't want it. How do you make peace with people who don't want it?"

"Terrorism is your solution?"

Her fist crashed into his face. The room blurred for a moment. "It's _war._ "

"Was the nuke in this city war, too?"

"It was for you to take care of."

Yin punched him again. A third one landed with a nasty crack. Blood trickled down Shepard's lips and chin. The fourth… was wreathed in orange, a blade out.

Shepard caught Yin's wrist with both hands. The tip of the blade hovered less than an inch from his face.

_"You gambled without knowing all the factors,"_ her father told him. _"And you lost."_

"When the Reapers come," Yin said, gritting her teeth, "every species will need to work together. Isn't that what you said?"

" _That's_ what this is about?"

"You can't believe the batarians will cooperate. The government—" Yin pressed forward.

A sting as the omni-blade bit his broken nose. Shepard tightened his grip, stepping back. "May or may not help us. We can't know that."

"Don't be stupid." Yin's gaze went to her omni-tool. A moment later, her arm relaxed, and the blade vanished. "But I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

Shepard dared to let go of her.

Yin took a long step back, then another, and put her hands up: a surrender she couldn't say aloud. "Whitwell underestimated you. Didn't think I'd make that mistake," Liz said, half-whispered. "So what'll it be? Arrest or execution?"

_Liz falling over, hitting the floor, limp. Red trickling down her brow, pudding around her head._ Killing Samuel Yin and Anna Whitwell was tunnel-visioned vengeance. This shot would be justice: for Scipio, for Alesh'khal, for what she tried here. No different from gunning down Fist at Chora's Den or stabbing Morinth in the back on Omega, if he silenced the memories of the Villa. _Liz in handcuffs, stepping into a prison transport. Liz on trial: a life sentence or a death sentence._ That was the responsible choice, the respectable one. Not taking it on Elysium doomed thousands.

Once again, it came down to one gunshot. But this time the lives were already saved. This time he wasn't the one backed into a corner. And this time there was a third option.

No, there was one back on the _Snake Fang_ , too. Now he was capable of seeing it.

"I shouldn't make that choice," Shepard said. Then, into comms, "Veshan. I've subdued Yin, but this is your planet she wanted to attack, your people."

"You shouldn't decide, or you don't want to?" Liz asked.

"Most of my people would turn her in to the Spire of Justice," Veshan said. "But I don't think either of you would like that. If she's not executed, very, very slowly, they'd probably gift her to High Sovereign Lerai. Our Sovereign is a lot of things, but 'kind to his slaves' is not one of them. We all hear rumors. A gunshot would be a mercy."

Liz remained stoic.

Veshan took a long pause. "But I'm not the Spire of Justice. I'm not the High Sovereign. Whatever you humans do for justice, I want her to face it."

Shepard nodded. "She will."

He walked behind Yin, watchful for sudden movements. She made none as he put her hands behind her and bound them. _It's over_ , he thought, staring at the haptic cuffs, less relieved than he expected.

"Should we call this one a draw?" Yin asked. There was no humor in her tone, only exhaustion. Bitterness.

Shepard started leading her back to the tunnels. "We can." None in his, either. "Fifty to fifty, and one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth Yin: When I first conceived her as a prominent fan character back when writing "All Angles," my basic idea was "Shepard's old friend who gets involved in Scipio." I thought she'd end up being the Dragon of sorts of Samuel Yin at the end of this fic, but then a ton of What Ifs came at me. Like: What if Liz became the final antagonist?
> 
> Veshan: As I started writing this fic, I had it that the unnamed batarian survivor would die from a clean headshot from Shepard. But that would've rendered that plot thread pointless. So he survived. Then as writing continued, I realized that with all these attacks and attempted attacks on batarians, I needed a batarian voice to round out the largely human POVs. I'm not 100% comfortable with giving a fan character so much screen time, but no canon batarians offered what I wanted to add to the story, at least, not without adding/changing so much that they were only canon in name. So, inspired by that "batarian Dorian" post I read somewhere on Tumblr, I made Enik Veshan that voice.
> 
> Expect more of both of these fan characters whenever I get to the ME3 fic. Probably not as prominently, but it'd be interesting to explore their reactions to the Reaper apocalypse. Does Liz have a redemption arc in store? How's Veshan after saving his government from a terrorist attack, only for the Reapers to annihilate it anyways? Hmmm…
> 
> In any case, one more chapter to go!


	26. Chapter 26

The tallest tower in Great Tanbir, the High Sovereign's Vantage was the brightest beacon amidst of a sea of light. While the leader of the Hegemony and his honor guard had wrapped themselves in thick, heavy cloaks, Falmirn Zora shivered. At first the disgraced lord tried covering his nakedness, but the fierce cold evidently convinced him otherwise. He wrapped his spindly little arms around his shoulders, his face pointed at the ground before the High Sovereign's feet.

Enik Veshan _should've_ delighted in the sight, but two evils stood at the edge of the roof. "Which one is the lesser" was a useless question he already answered.

Lerai smiled. "Falmirn Zora, former Lord of Defense, traitor to his nation. You helped human terrorists infiltrate my great city so they could attempt a mass assassination of the leaders of the Hegemony. I should end this right now, but as High Sovereign I am bound by tradition. So speak."

Zora's heels shifted on the edge of the tower. He raised his head, then tilted it to the right. "You are Sovereign of Verush's dying empire. Enjoy it while you can."

His warning only provoked a harsh laugh. "You are merely the latest in a long line of fools who have tried to unseat me. Be grateful for your former caste. The embrace of the Tekhal Gardens is more dignified than the teeth of my menagerie."

"If I succeeded—"

"But you failed. Do your last duty and succeed in this." Lerai stepped forward and placed both hands on Zora's shoulders. "Hit the water. Not the plants."

"For Dralka—"

Serak'hir Lerai gave a sharp shove, then turned away. "We are done here."

His Honor Guard parted, clearing the path to the elevator. Six extra bodies made the High Sovereign's Vantage more crowded than it needed to be, but Veshan supposed comfort came secondary when a traitor or two wanted Lerai to share Zora's fate.

"You," Lerai said, pointing at the newest Honor Guardsman, "walk with me."

Veshan bowed and followed. The position was Lerai's idea of a reward. From the safety of Zora's shuttle, Veshan extracted confessions from the Scipio agents and sent recordings to the Bastion. He brought Zora in once assured that the police wouldn't shoot him on sight. Neither Zora's plot nor the presence of Scipio made it to any news broadcast, of course, only a breaking news story about the Lord of Defense's sudden terminal illness. _The funeral rite will be spectacular, I'm sure._

Meanwhile, Zora's family would quietly disappear, "donating" its estate to the Hegemony. The slave bodyguard who saved Veshan's life _had_ to disappear. Disobedience to a slave master, even a traitorous one, meant death. Veshan deactivated his control chip and pointed him to one of the few places on Khar'shan an escaped slave could get off-world.

The real question, Veshan supposed, was "Did I choose the right evil?"

"I know you enjoyed that," Lerai said as the elevator closed.

"I did, High Sovereign. Zora died the traitor's death he deserved."

Lerai rumbled his agreement. "He dared to make common cause with our enemies."

Veshan was silent at that. The implication wasn't lost on him.

"Regardless, he will hit the gardens any second now, and despite his best efforts, we live to greet another morning. For that, you deserve something as well." Lerai smiled. "As one of my personal guard, you would be one among many. I want to distinguish you further.

"Zora needs to be replaced, and I will not put another weak-willed fool in a position so vital to the security of my Hegemony. I would put your success against Zora to use. Enik Veshan, you'll be the new Guard-Captain to the next Lord of Defense. You will protect them, but you'll also watch them, and report to me on their dealings."

"I am honored, High Sovereign." Those were the right words of a subject to his ruler, but the sentiment was all wrong. _The trap's sprung._

Lerai gave him a gracious left tilt.

The High Sovereign's private bar dwarfed any other on Khar'shan, no doubt. Mirroring the wide array of bottles from all over batarian space, a panoramic window overlooked golden Great Tanbir. Harsa's light exploded into a thousand shades of crimson, and the high towers of the city shot up their beams of light in response.

Lerai ordered a drink and sent the bartender off. "Ten thousand and seven, Captain."

"High Sovereign?"

"Ten thousand and seven evenings spent right here. Zora and many others tried to stop that count." Lerai sipped, gazing out the window. "I uncovered a few interesting items when I had his estate raided. Like this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin. "This is from Dralkath, an ancient enemy of great Verush. Zora's ownership of it shows his sympathies."

 _"For Dralkath."_ Zora's last words pointed towards the past, not the future.

"You may wait outside the door, Captain," Lerai said. "We have more to discuss about your new assignment after I finish my drink."

Veshan bowed and left.

Zora was right about one thing, even if he meant to hide his real motives. The Hegemony had to end. But its end wouldn't come at the hands of a few elites, or a band of human terrorists. It would come from the bottom up, with billions of batarians realizing that they deserved better from Lerai and his ilk. _Someday_ , Enik Veshan decided. _Somehow._

Unless what the _Normandy_ 's AI told him was true. _Reapers._

Lerai's voice came from the bar, though not towards Veshan. "Gerroel. Given recent events, I'm curious about your progress with the Leviathan of Dis. In fact, I'd like to visit the research base myself."

 

The goodbyes were quick and professional. Kaidan wanted to stay longer aboard Cerberus's _Normandy_ and catch up on what he missed, but the solace of a skycar proved more appealing. "Investigate Anna Whitwell's activities" turned into joining her terrorist organization, into reuniting with Shepard and the others, and into infiltrating Khar'shan to save a hostile government. He needed time both to processing those events—and to finish putting them into readable words and sentences.

With a few more keystrokes, the last of those sentences fell into place on the omni-tool window. He pressed "send." The skycar rushed into the Presidium, and the false sunlight flooded through the windows.

Elsewhere, a C-Sec shuttle was en route to one of the high-security facilities in the Wards. Kaidan was there when the black and blue Kodiak landed in the _Normandy_ 's hangar, and when Grunt handed Elizabeth Yin over to a steely turian officer. Yin's braided ponytail was undone, leaving her black hair limp behind her perfectly straight back.

She looked behind her. "You've seen a lot, Alenko." Her gaze brought back a memory: the warehouse, where she held a gun to Kaidan's face and demanded an explanation. Now only a fragment of that intensity remained.

"After all this, what will you do now?" she asked. Yin spared a glance at Shepard, but nothing more before she disappeared into the shuttle. Whatever words those two hadn't shared on Khar'shan, they had in the brig.

Business as usual wasn't the answer she wanted. Nor was it one Kaidan could give without lying. He'd seen too much, he might have said, but maybe the real answer was "seen what he needed to."

Spectre Jondum Bau and Councilor Anderson were already in the office. The former paced leisurely besides Anderson's desk, hands behind his back and a hint of a smile on his face.

The latter was sleep-deprived, and his gray suit defied the efforts of whatever tailor worked on it. "Commander Alenko." None of that reflected in his voice, however. Anderson sounded relieved, congratulatory. "Seems you've had an interesting time on your assignment."

"'Interesting.'" Kaidan took a seat. "You could say that, sir. You have questions?"

"I'm mostly concerned about Khar'shan."

"We were in hostile territory, but we had to go there to finish the job. It was either a diplomatic incident or two massacres." Kaidan was suddenly glad for Udina's absence. No doubt the ambassador would've deemed anything they did intolerable and voiced his objections loudly.

"And the Hegemony? How much does the batarian government know about the terrorists?"

"They know one of their highest officials, the defense minister, was backing them, and that they were human."

"I just hope the Hegemony will end up focusing on their own people, then, instead of attacking our colonies and calling it 'retaliation.'"

"None of us want another Terra Nova."

"You may be able to help prevent one," Bau said. "You have first-hand experience of Khar'shan and the Hegemony government, or at least some of it. Intelligence the Council hasn't been able to acquire for years."

"In the meantime," Anderson said, "I'll have Udina smooth things over as best he can with the salarians." He looked at Bau.

The Spectre inclined his head. "Your ambassador will have my support. I suspect the dalatrasses will be relieved that the thefts are over."

"Good. As for Shepard…"

Kaidan pressed his lips together. _Here goes._

"You said he was blackmailed," Anderson said, more concerned than curious. "What material did Whitwell use?"

"With respect, sir, that's for him to say when it's time."

"He'll share it voluntarily?"

"I think he will."

Anderson nodded with a frown. "I'll take your word for it."

An hour later, Kaidan emerged from the office with the Spectre by his side. They entered the elevator down together.

"I've one last question. Not related to the Scipio affair," Bau said. His eyes narrowed to slits, hand on his chin. "You fought against Saren two years ago. If Commander Shepard is to be believed, Saren served the Reapers. His ship, Sovereign, was a Reaper itself. Do you agree with Shepard? Do you still believe the Reapers are a threat?"

 _I'm not sure,_ he told the shrink, after the old _Normandy_ went down. But Kaidan had seen what he needed to see. "Yes."

Bau nodded. "Good. Some of us still take him seriously, despite his Cerberus affiliations. To get the Council to act, we'll need as many of our voices whispering in their ears as possible."

"'Our' voices?" Kaidan asked, though he already knew the answer.

Bau's reply was an enigmatic smile and a half-whisper: "The Spectres, of course."

 

Together they watched more departures.

It would've been four, but Kaidan went on ahead, and Kasumi wasn't one for goodbyes. Joker found her note on Port Observation's bar: _"It was fun, but it's time I moved on. Arigato!"_ The other two stood by the inner airlock.

"So it's time for you, too," Shepard said.

Miranda nodded. "I'm sure Cerberus will be after me the moment I step off the docking arm, but better I deal with them sooner than later. I can't be distracted when the Reapers arrive."

"Give Kai Leng my regards if you see him."

"Or a shot in the face," Joker said. "Either works."

"Regards and gunshots aren't mutually exclusive. Why not both?" Miranda asked with a smile.

Garrus joined her in the decontamination chamber. "I've been thinking. Maybe it's time I tried having a squad again."

"You did a hell of a job last time," Shepard said.

"Well, the end was a certain kind of hell, but the rest of it wasn't so bad. You and I might have our disagreements, but the good leaders inspire their people to be better. Even after everything with Scipio, and the Yins, and the batarians, you've still done that. Maybe I can lead another front against the Reapers. Take some of the load off your back." Garrus shrugged. "Or all of it."

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't plan on retiring any time soon."

"Shame. I'd love to captain the _Normandy_." Garrus gave Joker a pointed look.

He met it straight on. "Dream on."

"All right, all right," Shepard said. "Stay safe, all of you. And stay in touch."

When the airlock door closed, Shepard stepped back. His blue eyes flicked towards Joker for a moment, and his expression softened. "Can we talk?" He used a different tone of voice, not the commander, not the leader.

The bridge was all theirs, save for one, of course. "Hey EDI, could you start prepping?" Joker asked. "Tali sent the Flotilla's coordinates." One more stop would leave Grunt as the last of the Dirty Dozen. It would take something monumental to get him off the ship.

_Same thing for me, I guess._

"Of course," EDI said. "I will deactivate my monitoring devices on the bridge. Enjoy."

 _"Enjoy" might not be the word I'd use._ But that remained to be determined. "All right. Shoot."

"I've been thinking after our… talk." Shepard took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. "Liz and I aren't so different. She tried to convince herself she was working for a greater good, but she couldn't stop looking back at her father and Mindoir. It was the same for me. On the _Snake Fang_ , I thought I had something to prove. To Ares, to the Reds. To myself. And again when Whitwell talked me into working with her.

"I guess all this time I spent running away from the Reds, I was still staring back at them. And in the process, I... abused your trust. Put you in a bad spot. I'm sorry."

Joker looked down at the grating below his feet. _That's a start. A good one._ "Uh… sorry I dumped that shit on you. I mean, you were in a bad spot too, after telling us everything."

"You don't need to apologize." Shepard started down the bridge. Joker followed. "We both have our own baggage to sort out."

They entered the elevator. "I still care, you know," Joker said. "About you, about us. I can't just walk away from it."

"Do you want to?"

Did he? _"What happens now?" "I don't know"_ was a bad note to end on, but Joker couldn't stand to be in that cabin a second longer. Spilling the beans on his survivor's guilt, funny enough, was the only part of the conversation that offered anything resembling catharsis. "Well, maybe we did start this because we were—we _are_ messed up. Still don't think that's a good reason. But… it doesn't have to keep _being_ the reason."

A wave of discomfort washed over him at the sight of the captain's cabin. Joker fought through it and walked in. "So no. I don't want to."

"That's… I'm glad to hear it."

Silence both uneasy and content settled over the cabin. Joker sat on the corner couch, his gaze settling on the model SR-1 in the glass case. Shepard stayed standing on the steps.

"We can work though this," Shepard said. "I think we can."

"Communication, trust, the relationship buzzwords?" A pause. "Okay, that was a little rude."

A guilty smile crossed Shepard's face as he walked over and sat beside him. "I probably deserve it. But, yeah, something like that." He took Joker's hand. "I want you to know something. I never blamed you, and I never will, because it was never your fault. The ones I do blame? We blew up their ship and their base. And I know that was just a few words, so whatever you need from me, you have it."

There was something natural about the way their hands fit together, Shepard's fingers between Joker's, both broken and repaired (or in Shepard's case, remade from scratch) more than once. _Yeah, I'm not letting go of this._

"I think…" Joker said, "I already have the important thing."

A squeeze drew a downward glance and a smile out of Shepard. "Always."

"The rest is just time. Maybe a few reminders along the way. Self-blame's kind of a reflex for me." Joker took a deep breath. "So. Reapers."

"Right now? Fuck them."

Joker had to pick up his jaw. "Vic. That was pretty romantic, but I don't think I've ever heard you drop an f-bomb."

"Should've met me at N school." Shepard reached down and opened the case beneath the sofa. When he came back up he had a dark bottle with a fancy label in his hand. Then he plucked two shot glasses off the nearby desk.

"And this is for…?"

 The bottle opened with the crinkling of paper and the crack of the cap. Dark red filled the glasses.

"We did stop two terrorist organizations and save a few million lives," Shepard said.

Joker shrugged as they downed their shots. "Guess I've needed this drink for a while. Not this _drink_ , but… okay. Maybe this _drink_."

Shepard let loose a small hurrah. "I'll take that as a victory."

 

"Border skirmishes between the Hegemony and the Terminus gangs. The destruction of a batarian colony. Your former leaders were ambitious, but limited. One refused to adapt despite the demands of the situation. The other was a bloodthirsty lunatic bent on revenge. The third? A little of both, transcending some of her predecessors' flaws yet still bound by others."

A camera feed allowed the general a clear look at the passenger holds of various frigates and freighters, where men and women listened to him dictate their fates. Some of them snuck a nuclear device into Alesh'khal's capital. Others fled from a raid beneath the streets of Illyria. But most took no part in either event. That ignorant majority heard the news, evaded the grasp of the Alliance and the Citadel, and found themselves with one option that didn't lead to imprisonment.

"Our purpose is greater than Whitwell and Yin's single-minded crusades. They sought to crush one of humanity's rivals. We work to ensure that humanity has no rivals. Allow me to be the first to welcome you. I look forward to your contributions."

The general watched his words set into their faces, then replaced the feed with two QEC channels. Holographic figures appeared before him, tinted light blue in his office.

"One-hundred and three in the first batch," Oleg Petrovsky said. "Most of them are former Yin Security Services. Front-line soldiers, ill-suited for Project Ghost, but a few Scipio spies and saboteurs remain."

The image of the Illusive Man flicked his cigarette. "That'll be enough. Take your pick of the soldiers for your Terminus operations. Lilium here will sort through the rest."

"According to the new recruits, Anna Whitwell blackmailed Shepard into working for her. Would it be worthwhile to find her material?"

"A side project, if anything. I doubt a second use will be as effective."

"Regardless, Shepard and Lawson continue to contribute to Cerberus even after their resignations," Hope Lilium said. A confident woman in a business suit, she offered Petrovsky a gracious smile. "Thanks to you, however, Project Ghost is ready to enter its next phase. I'm sure you'll love the final product."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veshan: A caste system based on wealth is a very common social setup on Khar'shan, but the heart of the Hegemony takes this further and uses physical height as an exaggerated reflection of status. It's not enough that the richest batarian elites have the tallest houses, they shoot up beams of light into the sky to add to their "height." (Don't ask about their electricity bills.) Upper-caste batarian criminals are symbolically executed by being thrown from the tops of said buildings. However, we all know what the Leviathan of Dis really is… CONTINUITY HOOKS
> 
> Kaidan: A version of this scene was supposed to occur in "Blindside," in which Kaidan manages to sneak away from Scipio to report to Bau. I figured it worked better to put it here, closer to ME3 and his actual Spectre-dom. CONTINUITY HOOKS
> 
> Petrovsky: I suddenly realized: "suddenly disgraced private army scattered to the winds, many involved in terrorist activities" and "remnants of a terrorist organization skilled in infiltration and sabotage?" Who might see an opportunity to bolster their ranks for the galactic ordeal to come? CONTINUITY HOOKS
> 
> And that’s a wrap for “Pawn.” Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Next for the Victor-verse (eventually) is a short fic featuring Miranda on the run from Cerberus. How much Andromeda fic comes beforehand is to be determined, however.


End file.
